To Whom It May Concern
by duffshel
Summary: Sequel to Poisonous Fear. There’s evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya. Now Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Have you ever felt like your life was nothing more than a song eternally set on repeat? … Wait. I forgot. Part of making this work was details. No one was going to read this anyways.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes in several different seasons

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Well, if you're here, that means you were willing to wait and see what was going to happen to our heroes after Poisonous Fear. And I thought today's date was appropriate since the other started on Halloween. This is a new story, but you need to know what happened in the other, so I strongly recommend you read that one first, as I have said probably too many times as it is. I have tried something new with this story, I hope it works. There are some jumps between different people and view points. I have tried to make them as clear as possible. So, sit back and let's start a new round of madness, shall we! See y'all at that end!

_**"A man who has been in danger,  
When he comes out of it forgets his fears,  
And sometimes he forgets his promises."  
---- Euripides - Iphigenia in Tauris (414-12 BC)**_

**Chapter 1:**

_Have you ever felt like your life was nothing more than a song eternally set on repeat? No matter what you do in life, there is never a way to get ahead and prove yourself. _

_My doctors think this writing thing is the best thing I can do right now. Talking about it just makes the night terrors worst. But writing it, I don't have to say a word. Odd how that works._

_So here I am. Black ink pen in hand, a gift from my mother. Just like her to give a pen on her last visit. And it runs smoothly across the paper. This is harder than I'd have ever thought. I've read plenty of books in my days, but this is different. This time there are no helping words to create the images in my head. Now, it's me giving words to my visions._

_No one will read this. It is my personal hell._

_That is my mantra to get through this. It's the only way I'm going to be able to tell this to anyone even if it is Mr. Mead Notebook. He'll understand and not judge. Never did when I was failing advanced literature in college since I was dumb enough to mix it with two chemistry classes and advanced calculus. Something had to suffer._

_I wished I'd learned to meditate. That might help right now. Images are running wild, no control. I can hear sounds I never wanted to hear again. See things that should have never been seen in the first place. _

_I wonder if the two of them see things the way I do._

_My house is quiet. Almost too quiet. Sometimes it's what I need and other times, it scares the living hell out of me. My hands fumble with the remote to my radio in the room, hitting the power button on, then quickly off. Thought I had that nervous tremble down, but seems to sneak back in at the most inconvenient times._

_But again, I get off topic. I'm not supposed to be telling the tales of the present. Only of the past. The recent past only this time. I think if I tried to write everything that has come in my life involving harm, I'd never leave the house._

_After all, I have such incredible luck._

_Hmm, but where to start? Does the beginning seem correct? Obviously the end is not a good place right now. I'm still living in the ending. In fact, I think it'll always be the ending. But would the middle be too much? I'd have to check my pill quantity first before I get to that part._

_Think like a criminalist. Sometimes let the evidence take you through the events. My evidence is purely mental. I didn't process that last scene, my scene. Don't need to be a scientist to know that blood was mine. Had to have plenty of it replaced. _

_The doctors had to do a lot of work to keep me in this world so I would be able to write this. Can't wait to see that bill when it comes in the mail. Costs an arm and leg to survive now a days. Though, I don't think I could ever complain about it. Living is something I do enjoy most of the time._

_But again, I'm at the ending._

_Just need to take a deep breath and accept what happened. He came back and not alone. Never alone. Doubt he would be able to do anything alone. And he didn't take me alone either. As bad as it sounds, I'm kind of glad. Alone can really suck in those kinds of situations. And it was still hard enough as it was. Mentally and physically, he challenged me as I have never been before._

_"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time." _

_I have to disagree with that Mark Twain quote on those thoughts. I haven't had time to live fully. No one has let me. Might be against nature or something. Have to look it up. Internet has to have some uses after all._

_He harmed us with fear before. Now he introduced full terror into my life. I will forever see his face in my hall of fame. It is getting full way before it ever should. Hell, it never should've started to begin with. Too many faces, too many experiences. _

_It all started out as another normal day. I got up in the afternoon when most people come home from work. Breakfast contained of nothing healthy. Though there are vegetables in that salsa. The gym was on my list of to-dos. Won't be going there anytime soon._

_Work was going to be busy on that normal day. There was that case that was still going from a week before everything went to hell. I had been looking forward to getting somewhere on it. Always to move forward in a case. That's how it works._

_Wait. I forgot. Part of making this work was details. No one was going to read this anyways._

_So here we go. Details. All of them._

_My name is Nicholas Stokes. And I should be dead._

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The sound of the pen slapping against the paper was loud in the bedroom. Nick reached up and brushed at his long hair that had settled down across his forehead. It was getting almost too long for his old style now, but he had no desire to go out and change it. This was just a new part of him, part of the Nick he was just getting to know. Changes to that new structure might be monstrously bad, for him and others. No, best to leave alone. Let it grow some more so people would really be able to see it.

He kept his brown eyes down on the paper, rereading the words that had so quickly poured from his brain. This was part of his new therapy, new program. Nick took a deep breath and let his eyes shut out the black ink on the white page. This was supposed to help. But all it did was make his stomach do flip flops all around within his body. His throat itched in the back, acid shooting up every once in awhile.

Grunting, Nick pushed himself away from the notebook and got to his feet. There was only one large lamp on in the room. It haloed a small oval of yellow around the oak desk, but didn't do much to battle the darkness beyond that reach. He could only make out parts of the bed and the dresser. A bright white came from another area, but it wasn't made to light a room. Nick hesitated, mouth going instantly dry. His hands shook and his knees almost seemed to knock together.

His right foot moved one step forward, then another with his left. Darkness was encasing him, wrapping him in a cloak of chills. Acting without thinking, Nick's arms came up and wrapped around his torso. But his hands were cold and little could be done to fight off this reaction.

"You will not win. You will not win. You will not win," Nick stated in a loud, crisp voice as he starred straight ahead of him. He could see the outline of the doorway, the freedom beyond. There was light from the kitchen. Always a light on in every room now, big or small.

Nick swallowed the lump that had taken up residence in his throat and walked quickly forward. His right hand released his body and jumped to flip the light switch. The sudden eruption of light in the hallway forced him to squint a little, pupils shrinking quickly. But it suddenly was a little warmer. Both arms collapsed to the sides of his body.

Looking back over his shoulder, Nick could now see the entire structure of his bedroom. It was dirty and unorganized. But it was calming and home for the Texan. One of the small sanctuaries left in his life now. It was a place to hide. Hiding better with a light on though. Whether it was from the ceiling bulb or the pathetic little nightlight he had purchased, it didn't matter all that much.

Exhaling a strong rush of air, Nick walked further out into his hallway, feet carrying him into the next spot of light. The kitchen had an overhead lighting system. There were four lamps hanging down from the ceiling and Nick could position them in any direction he wished. Right now, they were all in different angles, trying to stretch as far as they could in every direction.

He stood on the cool tile of the floor, hands on his hips as he looked around the 'grand' room of his townhouse. The living room was dark, the television screen dancing with shadows and lights from different areas. It looked as if that part of his house was dead. In fact, every area of his house looked to be dead with nothing, but darkness within it. His kitchen was the only room alive at that moment.

Shaking his head of these new, odd thoughts, Nick turned to the fridge and opened it. There wasn't much food left. His visit to the hospital had been longer than he had even predicted and most of what he owned had gone bad in that time. Sara and Greg had taken the time to clean the gross stuff out, but not to stock it with anything new. And well, going to the store was one of the last things on his mind. Nick sighed and closed the door.

Hunger wasn't calling to him. He just wanted something to snack on. To have that comfort movement, that normal habit of every human on the planet. There was nothing different, wrong in eating. But there wasn't anything he was willing to eat at that point in time. He would have to work up the energy to stop at the store on his next infrequent trip from his house. Not after another fun round in the therapist's office though.

The back of his throat itched a little more and Nick figured drinking something was the next best thing to eating. He reached up and opened a cabinet slowly. His hand froze for a moment, breath staling in the back of his throat. The door was only open half of the way. Nick forced himself to finish opening it.

Nothing jumped out, nothing sleeping amongst his glasses. Nick reached up his right hand and grabbed the large glass tumbler quickly. The cabinet slammed closed. It bounced once before coming to its resting position.

Nick stared at the small door for a second longer. It didn't move. His lower body turned away first before he could peel his eyes from it. All the while his hands were working with the faucet, he kept his eyes moving all around, taking everything in. Even once the tumbler was full, he had to study and observe the crystal clearness the water offered through the glass. He drank it down quickly before he had anymore chances to think too much on it and break it like so many others.

It shook as he set it down in the stainless steel sink, but didn't fall over. Nick's stomach swished on itself now being completely full of liquid. There was a slight pain to it, but it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with. No, it was internal and would go away. He could deal with it. Or bury it. Either way, it would be gone.

The silence roared and filled his ears. He needed something to distract himself. Part of Nick yearned to grab up the phone and hit a series of numbers then wait for a voice to pick up. His friends had told him time and time again that he was welcome to disrupt their daily lives. They would come over in a minute if he needed them. Nick didn't need it, want it. The other part refused to admit them into his personal life anymore.

He walked past his cell phone without another thought on the matter and forced himself to face the stillness of his living room. Glancing through the wisps of his eyelashes, Nick reached down and turned the switch on one of his lamps. It wasn't much, but it was a source. And he was trying to become less dependent on them. Can't work graveyard and be afraid of the dark after all.

Outlines of all the furniture were clear and fine tuned. There were three remotes in a line on the coffee table, on top of his latest National Geographic magazine. A couple of DVD's were thrown in a careless manner across the rest of the wooden table. He sighed at the empty soda can on its side in the middle of it all.

Nick flopped down onto his couch, the cushions shifting around him. It was comfortable and he could almost relax a little. He learned his head against the back and allowed his eyes to shut. It was still silent in the room, but now it didn't seem so oppressive on him. Creating his own darkness as opposed to having it forced upon him was something he had come to terms with over the past couple of weeks.

Something moved outside his window. Nick didn't think before he reacted, jumping to his feet. His knee slammed into the table, pain shooting through every nerve, tendon, and muscle. The joints were still tender, but nothing he couldn't deal with. It always hurt now when he did something stupid like ramming it into anything available.

There was an animal call and another shift of his bushes. Something ran away and called out into the night. Silence rained down upon the townhouse again. Nature would leave him alone for only so long it seemed. Nick wasn't safe from anything suddenly anymore.

Throwing his hands down, Nick got up from the couch and stormed back into his bedroom. He threw himself down into his chair and forced himself to reread the words he had just written. Allowing his right hand to think on its own, Nick picked up the pen and pressed it down onto a new, blank line.

He could think of things, lots of things. But getting them down onto paper was a new thing. It was hard, getting harder by the days he tried to force himself to do this. Nick bit his lip and just let go. The pen began to move. His story began to tell itself. Those days were right in the forefront of his memory, crisp as if they were only hours old. He would be able to see it until the day he lay on his deathbed. He jumped back in time, mind going back into recent history.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

_The alarm was always something that always annoyed me. Nothing more wrong than a small machine with a face in glowing, red numbers telling a person what to do. But, no matter how much I hated that thing, I never failed to set it._

_I had set the beeping to go off at eight o'clock sharp. That always gave me two full hours to get up and moving before heading off to my office. Always made me laugh to say that. I remember the time my second oldest sister asked me what was in my office. My reply of lots of dead people didn't humor her. In fact, I think it earned me a good punch on the arm._

_My body protested all movement as I forced myself into an upright position. My eyes seemed to be on their own circuit as they took in the room around me. This was normal though. Well, since…then, that other time. People living in your attic can really fuck you up._

_Nothing was amiss. My clothes were still spread on the floor where I'd thrown them. One sock did seem to think the lamp shade was a good place to rest though. My dresser still had two drawers hanging slightly open. Nothing was popping out from them. No ants running loose._

_The bedroom was safe. I groaned myself to my feet and shuffled towards the open doorway. The bathroom needed to be placed closer. There were way too many steps between the bed and the toilet. A man should never have to walk that far between two of the male hot spots. _

_My hand brushed around on the wall until it found the light switch. It forced my eyes to scrunch up slightly. Pupils took a moment to adjust. Once I was ready, the porcelain throne was calling my name._

_When I was little, I had tried to write my name in the snow with my urine. It was a complete disaster. Not only could you not read what the word was, I ended up having to change pants immediately. Hard to aim at that age. _

_But again, I digress. Details about the recent past only. Recent months only._

_With the flush of the water, I pulled off my night shirt. My skin goose bumped in the chilly air. But soon the shower was steaming up the small room. Doorway open, as always recent._

_One thing that Warrick never forgot to harass me about was my choice of shampoo. I couldn't have the two-in-one. Nope, I had two different bottles, each demanding a full minute of my time. And, heaven forbid, they smelled like fruit. At this time in the evening, it refreshed the mind as well as the scalp. And the stuff works well._

_But I do have the ordinary blue bar soap that smells, well, like soap. All those body washes at the stores creped me out. Never before had I seen so many gels or liquids in so many colors or smells. Though, I have to admit, I do enjoy those smells on many a lady._

_The knobs for the shower turn off with simple turns and I blindly reach out for the blue towel. It is soft and always feels good against my clean skin. There is plenty of towel to go around my body and tie into place. Now the hair on my face is softer and it makes it easier to shave off. I'm not allowed to have any scruff according to Catherine and Sara. Might have to try a mustache sometime though._

_Just as I was tapping the last of the shaving gel and severed hair off into the sink, I heard a ringing. Knowing that it could be that lead I was dying to get, I dashed out of the bathroom. There was water still dripping off my chin, but I ignored it completely._

_My cell phone was resting on the bedside table. The small window on the front of the phone was lit up and revealed my caller._

"_Stokes."_

_It was Catherine. She had been my partner on this homicide case, which turned triple with the others on their case. There were three total victims, all had been shot twice. One bullet was found in each lower back, the other, the back of the neck. But there was nothing to connect the two besides the death pattern, not even the bullets. Vega was looking at a couple suspects and was supposed to bring them in if they checked out._

"_Hey Nick. Wanna come in early tonight?"_

"_Why would I want to do something like that," I tried to play it cool and collected even though I wanted to start jumping up and down on the spot._

_The smile could be heard through the phone, "Well, I talked with Sam and he seemed to have something I do believe you've been waiting for."_

"_He got a lead!"_

"_But of course. When has he ever let us down? Now, get your self into gear and get in here."_

_There was no chance for more words as the line went dead in my ear. The small grin came to my lips without my full consent, but considering, I wasn't in the mood to lecture. But then I quickly became aware of the damp towel still wrapped around my waist. Catherine would love to see me run into the lab dressed in nothing, but that._

_Without using much of my thought processes, I reached into the closet and literally tore a shirt from the hanger. Still open at the buttons, I almost ran to the dresser and grabbed on of my many jeans. This was always a problem of mine. Getting dressed with out the zippers and buttons. Clothes were all on, but not closed off. _

_My brain had left my body and was covering the ground that we had covered in this case. I had to be ready. This was my moment to prove myself again. There hadn't been many since that fateful day. I needed this. _

TBC…

Extra Note: Thanks to sherryw and rojaji for their help in getting this going!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Alright, just want to warn everyone now, I am going to change up the beginning of the sixth season a little. I'm going to pass up a few episodes and arrange what I need for this story to work. Just wanted to warn everyone now so you are prepared for when it starts to happen. Also, I have had some concern about the summary for this story. Once again, it appears my characters are getting me into trouble. So, I changed it! Alright, I'm done. Read on my friends!

**Chapter 2:**

_**There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls. **_

_**George Carlin (1937 - ) **_

Seventy-two days earlier_…_

The alley was dark and desolate. On both sides, the buildings rose to the sky, leaving little imagination for windows or doorways. Their gray cement was washed in lamp light from each end. And the distance to the street from this spot was a long way. A scream would be hard to hear over passing traffic. Of course, if there was any traffic in this part of town.

It was warm and damp. The night was trying to take this case to new heights by compromising anything it could curl its wispy fingers into. Rain was predicted for the area in a few hours time. Everything would have to be documented and filed by then.

Catherine Willows brushed her blonde hair back out of her eyes and quickly returned the hand to her hip. She continued to look at all the possible angles and variables to this scene. Wasn't much to go on, but she was never one to let that get to her.

She pulled at the collar of her sleeveless blouse, the black forensic vest heavy. Her skin itched in the many places her sweat found to hide. Catherine could almost feel the small droplets running down her spine as she stood there.

The dead girl, brown hair, red shirt, and jeans, was face down. Her face was turned away from the spot Catherine was standing in. One shoe was still completely on the left foot. The right one, it stood about two inches away from the right foot. Laces were still tied. Catherine moved her light slowly up the body, trying not to get in the way of the field coroner.

"Almost done here, Catherine," David Phillips stated as he looked up at the female CSI. Normally, no one would get in his way or push him along. Now, Catherine was defiantly working quite hard at it.

"Oh, no big rush," her eyes squinted as she stopped the light on the back pocket of the victim, "Take your time. Partner not even here yet."

"Who's working this with you?"

Catherine shrugged as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves she pulled out of her pocket, "Not a clue. I came in early and left before anyone else showed. Grissom wasn't there to hand out any assignments. But ya know, no working cases alone right now."

The younger man nodded his head and let the subject drop. He turned his attention back to the young woman in front of him. The initial body temperature was almost finished and then he would be able to get any initial reporting done. David had most of what he wanted done, had a pretty good idea as to what took this girl's life that night as well.

Crouching down on the other side of the girl, Catherine snapped a quick photo of the back of the girl's jeans. Carefully she placed the digital camera on the ground by her foot and reached out her right hand towards that back pocket that had caught her attention. Catherine reached in slowly and gripped the item that popped the denim out from the girl's body.

It was a brown leather wallet. Catherine had to frown a little at the discovery. She didn't know too many women that carried a wallet in their back pocket. At least nothing as full as this one seemed to be. It could barely touch the two flaps together.

There was about four hundred dollars in various bills at a quick glance in the main compartment of the wallet. Several cards shined their tempting plastic under the beam of the flashlight. Catherine pulled a couple of them out, mumbling things about them to herself. All of them had the same name on them. And then she found the identification.

"Trisha Boettcher, age 27. Vegas resident. Lives over close to Henderson."

David looked up as he cleaned off his equipment from the temperature reading, "Body temp. is 95.2. She's been dead for a few hours. And the cause, I'd have to go with the gun shot wounds to the lower back and neck region. You can see the tattoos from the gun powder, which tells me that she was shot from a close range. The entrance wounds are fairly clean without a great deal of blood at either, small bullet most likely. Doc will have to fish them out for you to be sure. From this position, nothing else throwing itself at me. Ready to flip her?"

"Just a couple more shots. You take yours?"

"Yeah, but always need you CSI's to back me up," he gave a small smile to Catherine as she picked up her camera and filled the area with bright flashes and soft clicks.

With a quick nod, they both took positions around the girl and slowly worked on rolling her into the waiting body bag that David laid out. David arranged her arms and legs so she rested better in the confines of the plastic container. "Body's getting hard to more. Rigor mortis is beginning to set in. The girl has been dead at least two hours. Takes on average that long for the muscles to begin to stiffen. Fits with the body temperature. Have to get her back to the lab soon."

"Yeah, just a couple shots to her face and front," Catherine zoomed the lens in and focused on different areas of the girl. There were a couple of bruises that had risen from the flesh on the cheeks, but that was all that was revealed without removing any clothing, "Body dump?"

"Most likely. I don't see any signs of struggle here and no blood settling yet. Might have been fairly recent."

Catherine studied the girl's hands for a second longer, "Yeah, most likely."

The zipper went the entire length of the bag. It took a few agonizing seconds for it to close completely around the girl. Catherine sat back on her heels as she watched the blackness closed her vision off from the young face. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, brow buried down in thought.

Footsteps echoed behind her. It was a gait she knew all to well. It had a slight swagger to it, knowledge of good looks easily shown, though reluctantly admitted to. But there was a hesitation, a slight fear in the walk now. Each foot seemed to meet the cement in pure caution, as if waiting for the ground to open up underneath them. Catherine couldn't help to feel a tad upset about that. But as always, especially as of late, she swallowed it and forced a smile to her lips.

"Hey Nick. You get stuck with me on this hotter than hell night?"

The blonde CSI twisted her upper body around so she could take a good look at her partner for the night. Nick Stokes was wearing jeans, a blue t-shirt, topped off with his black vest. He held his light professionally in his right hand as he grinned downward from his standing position. His evidence bag hung casually from his left. Looking quickly to his feet, Catherine noted black hiking boots.

"More like you get the honor of me helping ya out on this one. Gris took Warrick, Sara, and Greg with him," Nick shrugged, "Too many people if ya ask me. More for us to do here."

"Well, David is getting ready to leave. Just have to scene to process now."

"Can't yap all night then can we." An impression of his old, large grin rose up on Nick's cheeks. It was getting closer and closer as time went on, but Catherine could still see the strain in getting the corners of his mouth up just enough to show to people.

"Got my photos of the body, was going to start walking the parameter now. David and I believe this is just the body dump, not the actual scene."

Nick nodded, rubbed at his forehead, running his hand through his short tresses, "Cool. I'll take this side, you that?"

"Divide and conquer, sounds like you've been around Grissom too much lately Nicky."

"What happens when he sticks ya on every case with him for a couple of weeks. But, does make sense so I won't rip him too much behind his back. He is the boss man after all."

The grin got a little larger as Nick started to make jabs. It was always something Catherine loved about the Texan. His sense of humor was contagious and most people got sucked into the laughter by it. And it was always in good terms and manners. Nick was never down right mean to people with his joking around.

"We'll have to ask him when we get back if he felt chills running up and down his spine during his processing. See if he knew."

Nick laughed full out at that one, "Probably'd think it was something he should shove in a jar with some scraps of someone's lunch."

"And stick in the fridge with your sandwiches," Catherine smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Whatever," Nick snorted, "Just get to work, boss. Don't want to have to explain to Ecklie why nothing got done here."

Both exchanged one more look in good humor before turning the switch off. Then their eyes honed in on anything that looked out of place in that alley way. It wasn't easy. This was a bad neighborhood and alleys like these were used for all types of activities. Ninety percent of which was something that would wind someone up behind bars.

Frowning, Nick squatted down next to the remaining shoe from the girl. He too noticed that the laces were still tied. Grabbing his camera, he quickly snapped a few shots from different angles, and markers, before reaching for it. Testing the white laces with a little pull, Nick found they were tight, as if they were just tied together. If someone forced the shoe off or the girl lost it during a struggle, it would have been a little looser from the strain, or even untied for that matter.

He wrestled with the zipper of his case. The bag was getting old and the zipper stuck about half way down. Nick knew he should look into replacing it, but never actually took the time to do it. Grabbing an evidence bag from the inside, he ripped the top of a marker off with his teeth. The shoe fit in just fine, sealed from the night air. Nothing else special to about it to catch his attention.

Once the shoe was marked, Nick lifted his head and looked around him. Catherine wasn't too far away, studying something she found on the cement. There was a swab in her hand, flashlight in the other. He rested a hand on his left knee and twisted at the waist to look behind him. Footsteps were approaching slowly, with care.

"Hey Sam."

Detective Sam Vega nodded his head as he watched where he walked, "Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to get here. Had to deal with some stuff back at the station. The other officers treat you guys good?"

"Yeah, there were two of them. Taped the area off right away," Catherine answered quickly from her spot, "On my back since."

"Good. What we got?"

"Murder, weapon of choice would be a gun. Young girl shot twice, left, possibly dumped, in the alley. David has her, heading back to the lab as we speak. Just started on the surrounding area now."

"Need me to do anything yet?"

Nick shook his head, wiping at his chin with his forearm, "Nah, man. No suspects. We'll let ya know as soon as we get something, cool?"

The cop didn't answer, just nodded. He watched the two CSI's for a moment longer before walking away to speak with one of the officers. Vega wanted to know more about how the officers came upon the scene and what steps they followed in securing the area. He knew he would be asked once he returned back to the station and wanted to be prepared.

Catherine went back to looking at the odd marks she had found in front of her on the ground. The shape was odd, smeared. She wondered if it might have been a foot print, ruined in the attempt to bolt out of the area. A marker was placed next to it, photos taken quickly. She wanted to lift it before anything could compromise it anymore.

Everything about the collection was simple, routine. Both found several things that may have connected with what happened to the girl. But Nick knew that they needed more information from the body to know what to keep and what to dismiss. This wasn't going to be an easy one, but he wasn't about to throw in the towel yet.

Not saying a word yet, the two loaded their gear into the truck. Catherine watched Nick arrange everything until he was satisfied with how it all fit. She had to smirk at the sight.

"Nothing's going to move. Just don't drive like a maniac."

Nick grinned as he straightened up, hands resting on his lower back, "And why would ya say something like that? I ain't the one who has the keys."

"Ah," Catherine smiled as she reached into her jacket pocket, "So it would seem. Almost forgot about that. How'd you get here?"

"Grabbed a ride with a badge. He was at the lab, on his way here. I figured I could just come back with you. Since you would never be mean enough to leave me behind," Nick pursed his lips at her, batting his eyelashes a little.

It worked. Catherine burst into laugher as she jingled the keys, "Alright, hot stuff. Get your scrawny ass into the truck before I make you hitch back. You might have the legs to pull it off though."

They both walked to their doors, opening the latches almost at the same time. Catherine slid in making little noise, Nick threw himself in with a small grunt. The doors slammed shut, closing off the sounds of the alley around them. With a turn of the keys, the engine roared to life and Catherine put the truck into drive. They were off, leaving behind another crime scene.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

_It had been a chilly ride back to the lab. I was too nervous to ask Catherine to turn on the heat. They had always made jokes about me having too thin of blood anyways. Something about being from the South making me soft to the cold weather. This would just add fuel to that fire._

_That scene had been eerie. I remember the smells of that alley. Granted, most streets in that part of the city smelled the same, something about that one bothered me most of all. Looking back on it now, I should have put more thought into it. It was something I knew. Something I had dealt with before._

_But I ignored it. I let myself be pulled into the decomposing trash from the various trash bins spread out, the cat urine from the markings of different territories, and the smell of the incoming rain storm. This had been just another D.B. that we had to work. No time to worry about smells I had been sure I had made up anyways._

_And then there was the fact that there had been another two, that same night. The other small team of our graveyard crew had a similar scene of their own. Same M.O. and everything. Seemed to everyone, myself included, that we are the verge of a new serial killer. It had made sense. But it was the time difference that had bothered that idea. _

_I'm getting ahead of myself again. The memories are there and I can just feel them warring to get out of my head. And I have noticed my writing is becoming different. Hell, I could almost begin to believe I knew how to do this writing thing. Getting all poetic and shit all of a sudden. Interesting._

_But not as interesting as what else had happened that night. Getting back to the lab had been just the beginning._

_!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+_

Present_…_

Nick needed to take a break. Sweat had broken out across his forehead, hands started shaking so much the words were scrambled along the lines. It was almost too hard for him to read his own handwriting now. He let out a strained breath and pushed his chair away from the desk.

Taking a look at his clock, he groaned at the time. He needed to get some sleep. Had an appointment he couldn't be late to in the morning. Nick gathered himself up and walked unsteadily to his bed.

Once his weight was settled, Nick closed his eyes. He could feel his heart racing, the sweating had yet to let up. This was going along much harder than he would have ever thought. And he wasn't even to the hard stuff yet. This was all the set-up, the way to the big middle climax. He didn't know if he was going to make it.

Prying his eyes open, Nick looked over the table sitting underneath his bedroom window. The glass of the terrarium sparkled at him. Green, plastic scenery was bright under the light on the top of the unit. He couldn't see the frog anywhere out in the open. But after all this time he had the thing, it liked to remain hidden. Until the last moment possible.

Nick remained transfixed for a moment longer before getting back to his feet and walking slowly over to it. He reached out his right hand towards the back of the light, adjusting the white shine to the very center of the unit. Looking downward just as he was about to shift it again, Nick saw the frog. Her large, black eyes seemed to penetrate his very sole.

Without realizing, Nick gulped down the lump that had built in his throat at that very moment, and quickly turned off the light. He didn't really know why he had kept the damn thing. And in his bedroom for that matter.

But he didn't dwell on it any longer. He doused the room into a dim darkness as he rubbed a hand over his hair over and over, only the small nightlight shining. Nick literally jumped into his bed, feet going no where near the underneath, the edges of the mattress. It was a shameful thing for a man of his age to be doing, but he could have cared less. Never know what is lying in wait.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the support from you, the readers! Means a lot as always hearing from you on how you think this story is going. It's still soon enough that I can change some things if they seem to not be working. Just let me know! Alright, off you go! Bye!

**Chapter 3:**

_**At first cock-crow the ghosts must go  
Back to their quiet graves below. **_

_**Theodosia Garrison **_

seventy two days earlier, across town_…_

"So how come we all got pulled into this one? Does Grissom hate me?"

Warrick Brown arched an eyebrow at the complaint from his passenger, "Shit Greg. What's got into your head tonight? Does he hate you?"

"Yeah, well, he sends Nick off to meet up with Catherine, pulling the rest of us with him," Greg Sanders slouched down into the SUV's seat even more, arms crossed over his chest.

The two CSI's were alone in the truck. Warrick had taken the keys, therefore winning the right to follow Grissom's truck to the crime scene. He was the alpha male of this duo and made it clear right from the get go. It was habit he had from the many years of partnering up with Nick. Now it seemed, Greg was an unwilling player.

"So, cuz he pulled most of the team to work on a double, he hates you? Man, ya just get crazier each day I work with ya."

"Yeah, but I don't think he likes me as a CSI. Not that much solo work yet, or small group cases. Always stuck with everyone else."

The taller man shook his head and snorted, "Man, if ya got a problem with the boss, take it up with him. I'm the last person to ask on the workings of Gris' mind."

Silence broke over the two. Lights from the street posts decorated the vehicle with repeated flashes of yellow light. Warrick kept his eyes tight on the bumper of the truck in front of him, unwilling to lag too far behind. He knew most areas of Vegas from growing up there and running bets around in college, but there were even parts he wasn't too sure about. Even a man of his past couldn't hit every spot.

There was a double homicide in an alleyway, off Charleston Ave., by the tracks. It was called into the lab by Detective Curtis. She was waiting their arrival. Vega was off at the other scene with Catherine and Nick.

"So, you don't think he hates me? Regrets putting me in the field?"

Warrick hit his hand down onto the steering wheel, exasperated, "No Greg. If he did, you'd be sitting pretty back in the lab right now. Just give it a damn rest, man."

The younger man took to starring back out the window, taking in the aging buildings around them. It wasn't a long drive from the lab, but there was enough to catch his attention. People were still out and about, even at this time of night. It was a dark night, a slight overcast in the sky covering any help the moon would be able to offer.

He didn't really know how to explain why he was so anxious about Grissom that night. There really wasn't a real reason for his to be. It was just that he didn't think Nick was ready to go out solo or with only one other CSI yet. And he felt he should be the one to take his place. That's if, Grissom felt he was ready for it.

Suddenly, the red tail-lights in front of them made a sharp turn right. Greg had to grip the hand railing on the door in order to not fly right into Warrick's lap as the other man made the same movement using his own steering wheel. He was jerked again as the vehicle was braked hard in order not to slam into the other truck.

"Where did you guys learn how to drive?" Greg shook the kink out of his shoulder as he straightened himself.

"Just doing it like a true CSI man. You'll get the hang of it sometime."

"Oh joys."

Warrick merely smiled as he opened his door and jumped out into the night. He automatically searched the area around him as he reached into the backseat to grab his kit. The other side opened and he watched Greg peel his bag up from off the floor. Warrick had to smirk as Greg made a face at the wrapper that wouldn't let go. It was cleaner at least. The cowboy would even approve this time around.

His back cracked slightly as he raised his shoulders upward, green eyes tight on the movement in front of them. Right now all he had to take in was a couple more CSI's, but he could see the lights just beyond them. The crime scene was waiting for them. No holds barred on this one.

"Come on Greg. Quit draggin'."

Greg had the nerve, and the guts, to stick his tongue out at the older CSI, "I ain't the one staring off at nothing."

"No, but I'm not the one making Grissom mad…" he let it trail off slightly, voice lowering almost to a secretive level. Warrick almost laughed outright at the way Greg's eyes grew large at the idea. It was enough to jump start the former lab technician into moving more than his mouth.

"Oh man. I knew it! What should I do?"

Now Warrick had no choice, but to laugh, "Dude, you're way too easy. Shouldn't let yourself get played, boy. Get shoved right off the court."

Their footsteps were quieted by the movement around them as then went under the yellow tape. Lights swirled reds and blues off the walls, bathing them in odd shadows. A few officers milled off to the right, trying not to move around too much. Grissom and Sara had already moved in onto the bodies, setting their gear down to get ready.

They had taken the girl farthest up. Warrick tapped Greg on the arm, directing him to the other girl. His heart got heavy as he took in the youthfulness of her features, the innocence he could still see remaining in the sunken, shallow cheeks. Her gray flesh took everything away. He just got a glimpse of her glossy eyes as they were closed by the corner.

"Hey Doc. What're you doing here?"

Albert Robbins sniffed in slight annoyance, looking upward from his awkward crouch, "I'm not a permanent fixture in the morgue you know. Besides, David was busy and the other guy has off. Decided to get some fresher air."

The man didn't spare another look at the two younger men standing over him. He was agile in his own way, his cane no hindrance at all in his movement in the examining of the body.

"How long you been here?" Greg asked as he set his kit onto the ground, reaching to find a pair of gloves he was sure he had stuffed into one of his pockets, somewhere.

"About fifteen minutes. I was able to find a better way through traffic it looks like. Always knew you guys needed better ways to get directions."

Warrick smiled and shook his head slightly, "Hey, you probably got the call sooner. You seem to get those always sooner. And besides, Gris drove. Take it up with him about how we get from the lab to the scenes."

"Man could find his way through the innards of the common Periplaneta americana Blattidae without batting an eyelash, but ask him to traverse the roads of Vegas and we'd all be in trouble."

"What?"

Robbins looked over at Greg, taking in the confused face of the CSI. He simply smiled, reached out to pat the man on the arm. But he didn't bother to say anything more on the subject of Grissom and his driving. There was a dead girl in front of him and she needed to get back to the lab.

"Anyways, I have done the preliminary work on our D.B. here. Single gun shot wound to the lower back region, another to the back of the neck. Same with the other. Looks to be close ranged due to the ridging of the wound. But neither is through and through. Stopped somewhere in the body, most likely a small bullet, weak weapon."

"Time?" Warrick crouched himself down, camera already taking photos.

"Due to the liver temp I took, I'd have to say she's been dead for at least four hours. The other girl, only about three."

Looking over his shoulder, Warrick frowned, "They weren't killed together?"

It was an open question and they all knew it. Greg busied himself with looking over the girl. She was on her back, possibly from having been moved by paramedics or the corner himself. Her clothes were rumpled, dirty. Blonde hair was splayed out over the gray cement, looking limp and tired. One thing did catch his attention though, her shoes were untied.

"Hey, you take off her shoes for anything?"

"Now Greg," Robbins turned his upper body completely towards the other, "Why in the world would I do something like that out here? That is saved for the lab for a reason."

Trying to ignore the fact that his ears were heating up very quickly, Greg nodded and barely spared a moment to take in Warrick's pinched look of holding in even more laughter at the former lab technician's expense. He sighed as he pushed himself upright and took a couple of steps away from the body. The murmurs from the two living bodies over the dead one drowned out to white noise as he looked around.

His flashlight lit up only a small chunk at a time, but it was perfect for taking it all in slowly. Learning from those embarrassing earlier days, Greg knew he didn't want to rush the parameter search. If he had have had his choice with those first couple of cases, he could have had flood lights and flares lighting everything up. Greg had come to appreciate the preciseness that came from the smaller, compact flashlight in his hand.

It lit up the tire treads just fine, "Hey Warrick, you think these are fresh?"

Warrick looked over to where Greg was standing, following his gaze, "This is an alleyway between two warehouses. Possible, but treads aren't going to give us too much on this one. Document it though."

The younger man nodded and went to work marking the area. Like everything else in the field, it had taken him some time to get used to a camera in this line of use. Normally, a camera was nothing more than a way to capture moments in life, freeze them in time to share with other people for years. Becoming a CSI, he had learned the importance to having good skills with a camera and focusing on those things most people would squirm about if they were put into an ordinary family photo album.

Greg looked over his shoulder at the odd sound coming from the area. There were several people assisting Robbins to gather up the bodies and place them on their respective gurneys. He shrugged it off. Warrick would be able to worry about that, he had to finish this before he lost anything. A hand on his shoulder almost made him jump out of his skin.

"Hey, calm down Greg."

He could just hear the smile in Sara's voice as she moved her hand away from him, "What was the reason for that? Man!"

"What? Scared ya?"

If he had been a peacock, his feathers would have ruffled quite well in the lack of wind in the alley way. But Greg only had his human chest to puff out and attempt to keep his face clear of all emotions other than the glare he sent to the brown haired woman.

"No, of course not. You just caught me off guard when I was trying to concentrate on the case."

"In other words," Sara pointed at him with her right index finger, "You were scared. What's with men not being able to admit that someone spooked them? Not in your DNA or something?"

"No, I've looked at plenty of people's DNA and there is nothing that is assigned for that trait. You just didn't scare me. So how can I admit to something that's not even there? Huh?"

"Whatever. I didn't come over here to argue with you on this one. Grissom wants the two of us to take the outer areas. Him and Warrick will take the inner circle."

Greg nodded, running a hand over his neck, "Already started here. Found a tire tread."

"Busy area. Might not be new. Could be from some delivery a couple days ago," Sara frowned to herself as she thought all the possibilities through in her head.

"Yeah, thought of that, but figured better to be safe than sorry. Got photos and markers of it. Just about to move on when you showed up."

"Good. Let's work on an opposite pattern. I'll head up that direction, you cover here and down. Work sideways at the ends. Remember to check the building walls for any possible misfires."

They nodded at each other and Sara turned her back to Greg as she started along in that manner of hers. Greg shook his head, his hair dancing off his scalp. He looked over to where Grissom was standing, hands on his hips. There was no envy for Warrick having to over there with him.

Greg had always prided himself on his reputation with the ladies and not having to look at any men, but he had taken notice of that look Grissom could get. The one where his lips got all bunched up together and his nostrils flared a little. He saw that face and always knew to turn the other way.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

He kept his chin tucked downward, letting his eyes roam over the area. Three members of his team were working well around him, but he wasn't watching them. No, Gil Grissom was trying to play out what had happened, what had lead to the events in which two women were murdered and left in this alley. Sometimes, he felt if he looked hard enough, he could see into the past. It was like a window would open and pull him straight to the glass.

Nothing was coming to him now. Some of his gift had been lost due to recent events, to his person and others close to him. Grissom had trouble speaking and showing his emotions, but they were always there. Always right under the surface waiting for that moment to break free. He had to fight hard against them.

Shuffling sounded next to him, a sniffle of resignation. He turned his head a little, taking in the form of Warrick in his peripheral vision. The other man was larger than him. It had never bothered him. Just another observation.

"Odd or what?"

Grissom reached up a hand, rubbed at his scalp with short fingernails, "Always go with the 'what' during a scene, Warrick. It's our job to figure out what 'what' is."

"Uh huh, right boss," Warrick responded, green eyes rolling.

"I'll talk with Robbins back at the lab. I want you to process the clothes, shoes. Have Sara and Greg continue looking over the parameter."

"You leaving already?"

The supervising CSI allowed his eyebrows to rise at the question, "You three have it here. I want to get to work with the bodies. We lose something every minute we wait around. Besides, you need to work quickly, going to rain soon."

"Sure, sure. I'll get on top of it."

Grissom left without another word. He trusted his CSI to walk the other two through this. And, he really didn't want to have to deal with Sara and the temper he knew this order would bring out. There would have to be some messy deals with his own emotions at the conflict that would happen. He needed the safety of the lab, his office, to deal with something like that.

But Warrick had been right, it was odd. The whole night was odd. Something was in the air, something he couldn't put a finger on. And it was enough to bother the seasoned entomologist.

His feet carried him back towards the truck that had brought him here. It would be a tight fit to get out, but it wasn't impossible. Logic would have him wait, leave with the others. But he hadn't been lying. He wanted to get back to the lab and work on the bodies.

Several officers hailed him as he passed. Grissom responded to each with a nod, a tight lipped smile. His faith in normal police officers had been diminished a little. The keys were heavy in his hand as he fished them out of his pocket. And the seat was suddenly hard against his back, his thighs.

Looking through the glass, back out into the night on the other side, Grissom's brow furrowed downward. He really couldn't figure out what was bothering him. Something had been distracting him, causing him to be almost edgy, jumpy. Both were things he was unfamiliar with.

Grissom studied the cars, the people, and the shadows around him. Nothing was there that shouldn't be at that moment. He was simply being paranoid. It wasn't a good thing to be at a crime scene. Grissom needed to get away and clear his head.

The truck shifted with a thunk into reverse and he carefully moved the large steel beast through the others around him. It backed into the road, lined up with the yellow, and he slammed it into drive. He would never admit that he almost floored it to get away from that spot.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **So, here's another dose. Have to say, going to be the last for at least a week. Going out of town and won't have any access to a computer, much less any electricity! But I promise to update again as soon as I can. Go read, review, and enjoy! Thanks!

**Chapter 4:**

_**"If you have not often felt the joy of doing a kind act, you have neglected much, and most of all yourself."  
A. Neilen **_

seventy one days earlier, crime lab_…_

Glancing down at his watch, Nick watched as the minute hand traversed the final little steps across midnight. It was officially a new day. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead at the thought. They had just arrived back at the lab and already he had a headache.

He followed the clicking of the shoes in front of him. Nick trusted Catherine to lead him, allowing him to study the floor as they walked. Eye contact would involve some sort of response, some sort of smile, and he really didn't have the energy to play the social game right now.

Thoughts of that alley had taken over his brain. That shoe was bothering him. Nick coughed deep in his throat, lips twisting around. He almost wished a piece of gum. It would be something to keep him from grinding his teeth together.

Suddenly the shoes in front of him stopped, removing the one from his thoughts as solidly. Nick threw his head up, hands rising as he turned on the brakes. Blonde hairs filled his face as he tried to figure out what happened. Feminine sweat filled his nose and worked to get a cough out of him, along with a question at what was up.

Catherine didn't give him much of a chance, pulling away immediately, "Hey, watch it. What's wrong with you all of a sudden?"

Nick looked up at her, lost little boy look plastered across his face. Reality of where he was crushed him downward. He glimpsed movement over the woman's shoulder. Now, he really wished for the world to open up and swallow him whole. Grissom was looking right at him.

"Sorry, wandering thoughts… about the case."

It was a weak defense and he knew it. The raising of the senior CSI's eyebrows in front of him proved it. He could already here the questions, of course only from Catherine, at least out of concern. Another smile was painted on his lips, palms held out in offering.

"Promise. Nothing wrong."

Grissom jumped in, ending the situation on its head, "You two are done early."

"David was there before us, not too much at the scene," Catherine answered.

"Anything stand out?"

"Nope. Girl was shot to death, twice. There really wasn't anything at the scene. No murder weapon present. Thinking it was only the dump sight anyways."

"She was shot twice? Where?"

"Lower back and back of the neck."

"Just like ours…" Grissom trailed off, turned to walk away.

Catherine wasn't about to let him off the hook that easy, "What? Yours? Gil, what are you talking about?"

"Yeah, our double. Both girls had the same cause of death. Seems we might actually have one case. I left the others at the scene to work it more. I was on my way to the morgue. Care to join me?"

The tiles in front of him didn't hide the silence that suddenly fell. Nick jerked his head up, both faces looking right at him again. He missed most of the conversation. Those thoughts had come back and he was practically salivating in wish for a piece of damn gum.

"Uh…I'll take the stuff to trace…" Nick tried to keep the question out of the words.

Blank stares were all he got in return. Showing a little bit of teeth, Nick turned on his heels and took off. This was one of those few occasions where he was desperate to find and talk to Hodges. He could only begin to wonder how Satan was liking the ski slope resort hell just had become.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

As always, the morgue was chilly. The temperature was well controlled, locked up under a glass pad so no one could mess with it. But Albert Robbins never was one to complain about it. In fact, with the skin melting heat outside the walls on most days, this was a nice retreat.

The blue scrubs he wore hung a little lose, fabric scraping against other fabric with every move he made. Regulations had strict orders that the clothes were tight fitting, snug so as to not snag on anything. But Robbins couldn't move well in something so constricting.

There were three bodies on display, two on the permanent working tables, one still waiting, fully dressed, on a gurney. Robbins looked around the first body, the plastic sheets hanging down from the walls protecting minimally against airborne agents. His cane clanked along on the tile as he moved closer, clip board in hand.

It had been a young girl. She was only twenty-seven. There had been a whole lifetime for her to live yet. Instead, she was naked, waiting to be sprayed down once again to remove anything that might be offensive for an open casket funeral. Across her chest and stomach, a jagged "X" was marked. Several black stitches stood out against the gray skin.

Her brown hair was swept back, away from her face. Blue lips were full, wrinkled. Several vein lines were visible running up and down her neck. She would have been a pretty girl, full of life. Now, she would face the fate her family or her will dictated. She was only part a full girl, some organs and bullets taken from inside her flesh.

Robbins looked up from his notes to the sound of the door swinging open. It wasn't unusual to see Grissom and Catherine walk into his domain together. And their expressions were nothing new. He could almost hear their thoughts as they moved towards him.

"One would have to say neither of you are happy to see me?

Catherine smiled tightly, "Always a pleasure to see you, Doc. Just sometime, let it be under different circumstances."

"Agreed. Gil, I don't have your girls quite done yet. I just finished up with Catherine's here and was getting ready to prepare for yours."

"It's alright. Seems that we might have a connected crime. What do you have?" Grissom walked close to the table, looked right down at the girl, from the scene he hadn't seen.

"C.O.D. was confirmed on sight by David, gun shot wounds. Two of them."

Grissom raised an eyebrow, small smirk to show the good doctor he wasn't impressed, "We know that already. Which happened first?"

"Ah, now there's the question of the hour. From the looks, the first was administered to the lower back, and then followed up with a shot to the back of the neck. I would say, the first shot was standing, level to the shooter's arm. Second one was given quickly after, but seemed to be at a closer distance from what I could tell with the residue. I have these two cleaned for basic procedures, but the third is still fresh. You could stay for that one."

"The clothes for these two?" Catherine looked around her for any plastic bags.

"Already sent them up to trace. Hodges was practically calling me every five minutes for something to do with this case. Wanted to get him off my back."

"So, was the second girl the same?" Grissom asked as he turned to look at the second table, "Same shots in same order?"

Doc Robbins straightened his body and walked over to the other table. She was the first victim that came from the second crime scene. Her coloring was completely gone, cheeks shallow against her bones.

"Yes. Lower back first, neck last. Same as with the other, the wound to the neck was the killing shot. I have to open her up and get inside to find the bullets to make sure and check the damage, but it is consistent."

Leaning his cane on the table, Robbins motioned for Grissom to help him move the body so they could get a good look at the young girl's back. Carefully, they moved her heavy, stiff limbs so she was resting on her right side. Robbins cleared his throat and removed one of his hands so he could point out some features.

"From the angle I was able to determine, her head was thrown slightly backwards. My guess, the shot to her back threw her torso forward, head back. The shot entered here," he pointed to the skin exposed beneath the hairline, "Went in through the spinal cord, severing it between the second and the third vertebrae from what I can tell now. Shut her entire body down before hitting the ground."

Catherine stood straight, hands going to the swells of her hips, "Odd way for execution style. Why not just straight in the face? Why two shots?"

"Seems to me," Robbins found his cane again, "There might have been a point that needed to be made by this."

Not wanting to speculate anymore on this, Grissom didn't bother with any other words. He simply leaned forward, eyes squinting as he tried to find something else that would help them in this case. But it seemed the good doctor had been more than thorough with these two.

"I'd like to stay and help with the third," he didn't bother to look at the other two living people as he moved to the rake with the green scrubs on them.

"Seems to me you're going to have two more for the last one," Catherine smirked.

Robbins smiled a little and walked over to get the gurney so they could put the last girl on the washing table. The smile vanished at the sight of the lost, blue lips. He held up his hand to stall Grissom for a second. He moved over to the phone on the wall by the entrance door.

He pushed in a few buttons and waited for the rings to be answered, "Yes, David. I'm going to need your help down here…Yes, come now. Thank you."

Grissom raised his eyebrow in question at the request for more help, "Don't think we can handle helping you? I know it's been awhile since I've done this, but I think I can remember."

"No," Robbins waved him off, "I want him to finish with the first two while we work on the third. Nothing is going to be lost on my watch."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

His right eye began to twitch. Someone had just walked into the door of his trace lab, _his_ personal lab. David Hodges didn't even want to begin to think about who it might be. Which ever CSI it was, they would open their mouth soon enough. Always demanding his attention. Pride bubbled inside of him on the dependency.

"You get lost or something," Hodges didn't even bother to look up from the microscope he had set up. There was a case from day shift that needed another look. He had offered his services, told Ecklie himself that he would take a look at the sample and help out. Earned a pat on the back and everything.

"Nah, just came to do some work."

The Texas drawl was smooth with humor and Hodges had to bite back on anything he would have loved to say. If it had been anyone else, they would have gotten an earful. But, Hodges was trying to play nice with Nick, share the toys and all, since…that day. He would never admit it aloud, even under the pain of death, but he was glad that certain CSI hadn't died.

"You CSI's never work. Just get underfoot of the officers then drop everything off for us lowly techs to figure out for you. Just like reporters, never work, but smile pretty and take all the credit."

Nick smiled his best pretty smile and walked over to the table, "Yeah, that's why we make the big bucks. I mean, shit, have you seen the new Mercedes I've been driving around. All disguised as my big 'ol black truck so it can't be lifted. Cost an extra pretty penny for that feature, but woo-wee, it works like a charm."

"Car thieves are bottom feeders," Hodges had to admit, Nick could dish it out with some of the best of 'em, but refused to lose his straight, uninterested face, "They're right there with the Fox network and catfish."

"Hey, I watch that station. Have some good stuff on. Sports and all…"

A raised eyebrow broke the flat expression of Hodges face, "I'll leave that one well enough alone. Don't want to risk any of the respect I might feel for you."

"See, always knew I was your favorite, man," Nick reached out and slapped the other man's arm, "Bet you never tell Greg you have any respect for him." But it wasn't reciprocated or even responded to.

Hodges crinkled up his nose as he sniffled, bored with this conversational direction now, "What'd you bring me? Something worth my time, I hope."

"I dunno yet. I just brought everything straight here, didn't sort anything yet."

"What? Why not?"

The Texan shrugged and looked closely at something on his right hand, "Just didn't yet."

"There are other lab rooms for that sort of thing. You bring me what you need after that," Hodges explained as best he could, imagining it was Sanders he was talking to so he would make sure to talk slowly and clearly.

"I suppose…" Nick broke off, looking uncomfortable, "Just had to get away from Catherine and Grissom."

Neither said another word. Nick studied his hand, David tried to find something that he could pretend to work on. Both were coming up short. And the trace technician would be damned to start another topic thread.

"Well, you best go and get that worked out. I have to finish up this sample for day and then get started on the bags I collected from Robbins."

"Alright. Be back when I get something for ya to do."

Hodges watched the man walk out of his lab. His frown deepened as he heard the shuffle, saw the slope of the back. Something bothered him, but he was David Hodges. It wasn't his thing to go fixing people. Nope, not his thing at all.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Sara sat in the back of the SUV, elbow resting up by the window, fingers drumming absently at her slack mouth. The buildings, the lights passed them by. Quickly at that. Warrick was speeding, she was sure of it.

The guys were quiet. They had been since Grissom had left them to the scene. It hadn't been a difficult one to close out. She had gotten some substances from the ground around a dumpster using swabs, and something from the street. Not sure if it was important, but it made her feel like she was moving somewhere.

Her mind swirled, trying to piece together everything she knew. And concentrating on this made it so she didn't have to try to talk to the other two. Besides, it sounded like they didn't care for any words anyways.

It wasn't long before they made it back to the lab building. Sara couldn't help to think something was different as she followed the two men in through the glass front doors. Everyone was working, no one was yelling that she could hear. The lights were on, there were no holes in any of the walls.

She nodded at people who hailed her as they walked, same with the guys. But none of them made any vocal comments. None of the three that was. It was as if their voices would be pulled away into nothingness, a void if they dared to speak to anyone. Even Greg was being quiet when that new blonde secretary smiled at him.

As they walked towards the conference room to meet up with Grissom, she finally felt something she had grown used to since the summer. There was a thick tension seeping in through the cracks in the walls. And it was centered on them, the graveyard gang. It was sealed when she watched Nick literally run from the trace lab into the back halls of the lab.

Warrick went stiff at the sudden appearance of his friend. The Texan either didn't see them or didn't care that they had been there. His body prepared for flight, attack if need be. A hand clasped around Warrick's bicep, holding him more powerfully than he would have thought.

"Let go, Sara," he growled softly, but it wasn't enough to get the woman to loosen up her hold.

"Just leave him be for a few. Let him think this through, get ready to talk to you."

Sara watched as the words soaked into Warrick's brain. It had been a tactic they had been using for a month now. Each of them had learned it was best to let Nick cool own for a bit before confronting him on what was the problem. Only Warrick had too many problems with letting Nick cook in his own thoughts for too long. It was just a way to create stories for distraction and it worked way too damn well.

"I don't want him to get ready. He can thrown up his damn walls and hold me out if I give 'em too much time to think. Need to catch him in the moment."

Greg shuffled, trying not to draw too much attention to himself, "Maybe we should go after him. He didn't look too good."

"Look guys," Sara put her hands across her chest for added protection as she thought her words out, speaking slowly, "I know you're both worried about him, but he won't want that. I think it's best we leave him be for a little bit longer."

There was a flash in Warrick's green eyes that showed defiance, disbelief to the words she had just spoken. He was the closest to that damn man and knew what levels Nick could take himself to just thinking about shit. It wasn't healthy. And it wasn't helping him get out of that box any quicker either.

But anymore comments were cut off by the sudden appearance of Brass, "What, a party in the hallway? I'll assume my invitation got lost in the mail so that'd be why I didn't know about it."

"Just heading to the conference room to meet up with Grissom," Greg rubbed at his left elbow, arms bent in front of him in an odd angle that only could look natural on the newest CSI.

"Hmm, assuming you haven't locked him up in the closet with the clown, he'd be in the morgue," Brass waited for the nods, "Fine, but I really need to find and talk to Nick. Any of you guys seen him?"

No one answered. Warrick only looked away, down the hall his friend had retreated to.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

_It had been a long time since I felt like a child at work. And, damn it all to hell, it had to be Hodges that made me feel that way. All I wanted to do was get away from the searching eyes of Grissom and the sharp mother instincts of Catherine. Can never hide anything from those two. I swear, it's like living with my parents again when I snuck in the house after curfew._

_But he had gotten on my case, literally both, for not going through the evidence first. It was a lab! It was used to go through evidence. I didn't see the big deal. Not like I would have gotten in his way. Just didn't want to share the room with me. Might just make a mess for him to have to clean up._

_No, he sent me away to return when I had something of use for him. Always have to have something useful now, otherwise I'm just Nicky, the CSI in the way. Sadly, I really don't think it'll improve this time around either. Guess a box and some explosives wasn't impressive enough. Maybe next time I should hire a fireworks show and a popcorn maker._

_And sadly, shudders still run through my body at those thoughts. After what has happened recently, those things are child's play. Nothing to lose sleep over. Now, I'm afraid of other things, more things, newer things…_

_I had seen the guys in the hall, just didn't feel like talking. I could see the frowns on their faces, but heard no voices. Warrick looked ready to tackle me and hold me down until I screamed 'Uncle.' They were thinking about something and I didn't want to have to think about it too. Had my own case to work, go over. Case to make myself useful again._

_So, I took off, trying to find an empty lab to work in. There were several, but I picked the one in the corner, with the least amount of windows. It was smaller than the others too. Only two steel counters lined the walls, one large table in the middle. There weren't any cabinets or drawers so I had to use my own stuff from my kit. I've resorted to using this one a lot in the past year._

_I remember most of what I took out and went over. My hand had cramped up during my note taking, writing everything down so I wouldn't miss anything or forget about it later. I worked hard and played the good little CSI. Should have tried harder._

_Things might not have hurt as much. In the end. Or, well, right now._

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone. Lots of people seem to be reading, so, that's a good thing. And thanks to those of you who take the extra little amount of time to review. So, here's a nice long chapter for everyone. Enjoy as always! And let me know how it went.

**Chapter 5:**

_**Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased by tales, so is the other. **_

_**Francis Bacon, "Of Death"**_

present_…_

Something was causing his eyelids to twitch. Nick groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, arm thrown up over his head. He had tossed and turned all night. Every one of his muscles was sore and Nick knew it would be a tough day. Mentally and physically, no less.

The sheets twisted around his feet, holding them together almost uncomfortably. His t-shirt was riding up, bunching up under his lower ribs. Nick groaned again and raised his head to look for his clock. He kept his eyes scrunched up, his left hand lifting to scratch at his nose.

According to the red numbers, he had been asleep for a little over seven hours. It was an improvement. He smiled with limp lips. Maybe it would be a good day once he got up and moving.

Nick threw his legs over the edge of the bed after a strong fight with the sheets and got into a sitting position. His neck twanged, but he ignored the minuscule pain. Opening up his eyes wider and stretching out his jaw, Nick stood. Now that he woken up more, his bladder was screaming for his full attention.

Without thinking much about it, Nick walked right past the frog tank and flipped on the light. The small green world lit up causing the frog to jump for cover. Nick just continued on his walk to his bathroom. His nose wrinkled a little.

"Man, need to clean this place up, a-sap," Nick spoke up to anything that would listen, no matter the cell count. A voice cutting into the silence was just something he needed right at that moment. He would rationalize it with himself later that talking with himself wouldn't necessarily be a good improvement step right now.

He raised the toilet seat and answered the call from nature. His entire body seemed to shake from the pleasure of release. The simple things in life were always private things you never wanted anyone else to ever witness. And no one could tell him watching a lover piss was something that would show commitment and love.

Nick sighed and stepped away from the toilet, flushing as he did so. His back was tender. All he wanted to do was to take a nice cool shower to wash away the sweat that had collected during the night. And his teeth really felt funky. He absently grabbed at his mouthwash and took a swig. It swished around, prickling at his gums and tongue.

But it was the fact that his fingers were aching, pulling at something not in that small room. Nick sniffled around his mouth full and turned unsure eyes towards the hallway. He knew what he really wanted to do. And it really surprised him. He really wanted to get back to that journal and continue his story, this tale.

He spit into the sink and rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand, "Man, something must still not be back in place. Never would'a thought I'd want to write in a damn diary like a teenage girl with a school crush."

No answer. Didn't really surprise Nick at all. Not like the sink would ask him if he wanted a cup of tea with his deep thoughts. He had just spit in it.

"Fuck it all."

The uncharacteristic shout echoed heavily throughout the space. Nick slammed his right palm into the wall and practically ran out of the bathroom. The bedroom seemed too far away. His feet carried across the carpeting. He was so close now.

Nick gasped and threw his body into a halt. His arms flailed in the air as his torso kept moving in the direction he wanted to go. There was a darkness line just inside the door frame. Only a slim line of light reached across his bedroom, over his bed and pillow from the window. The frog tank was bright, but again, not enough to light up much of the actual room. And in all reality, the nightlight was really pitiful.

He took a shaky breath and rubbed his hands over his scrunched up eyes. It was a stupid thing. No need to fear it. Hell, he had made it to the bathroom with no problems. Of course, he hadn't been aware of much in his waking state. Can't really see things if you don't think about them. It's dark behind the eyelids anyways.

The doorbell ringing almost made him jump out of his skin, "Damn!"

It rang again, echoing throughout his house and his skull. Nick stood stock still for a moment longer before forcing himself to make the trek from his bedroom door into the living room. His hand brushed against the paint on the wall, his silent support. There was a pain in his chest, but he would never connect it to the fact his breathing was rapid and harsh.

A knock slammed into the wood, "Hey man, get your ass moving! We've got twenty minutes to get across town. Nick? Nick!"

He expelled a rush of air from his lungs, cleaning out as much carbon dioxide as possible. Nick leaned forward, hands dropping to his knees as he shook himself out of his near panic attack. In the end, he had to chuckle a little at the sound of Warrick getting mad at his door.

"Nick! Damn Texan. Open the door! Don't force me to break the shit down! I'll go kung-fu on it, don't even mess with me, man."

Nick walked slowly to the door, smile creeping up onto his face. He curled his lips inward around his teeth as he fought his laughter. It sounded like there was a bull that had just seen a hell of a lot of red out of his front step. The peep hole was just under his line of vision and he could see Warrick perfectly through it.

The taller man was pacing in two step intervals, hands clasped in fists at his sides. Warrick's head was shaking from side to side as his lips moved in obvious curses for the man spying on him. Nick waited for just a moment longer, until Warrick raised his battering ram to the wood again.

"Nick! Open the damn do…" Warrick trailed off as his hand didn't hit anything, open space now in front of him. His body had been bent forward, moving to hit the wood, and Warrick just couldn't stop the momentum.

The other man stood back behind his door and watched Warrick reenact the scene he had had with his own bedroom just a few minutes earlier. Unfortunately, Warrick didn't have as much grace and went straight down to the floor.

Warrick lost control of his diaphragm as he hit, "Shit!"

"Well, good morning to you too sunshine," Nick smirked as he pushed Warrick's legs out of the way so he could close the door behind the man splayed out on his tile.

His smirk grew as he watched Warrick flounder a little, gaining no ground as he rocked from side to side to get his arms underneath him. The glare he received as the other man pushed himself to his feet was nothing new. Nick simply shrugged and raised his eyebrows. He had seen the wince Warrick had given, but knew better than to mention anything about it here and now.

"You're a jerk, you know that? Think that wouldn't hurt?" Warrick growled low in his throat as he wiped his hands on his pants, "Hit my hand wrong. Kinda hurts."

"Yeah, makes ya love me all the more, don't it? And I don't kiss and heal, have to call the wifey for that one. Now, sunshine, you want any coffee to go with that fall? Should have some aspirin to take away your owie if ya need it."

"Call me sunshine one more time, Stokes, and I'll make you walk to the doc's."

"Well, seeing that I'm not supposed to over do it in the exercise department, that would mean I wouldn't have to go today," Nick nodded to himself as if he suddenly solved all the questions of the universe, "Deal, sunshine."

Warrick counted down from three in his head and shook his head. He watched Nick pad off into his kitchen, lights on of course. Looking around, Warrick noticed all the blinds were open, sunlight pouring into the house. It was a new thing Nick had been trying, since earlier in the years everything was always locked up as tight as a bank's safe.

"You ready to go man? Like I said, only twenty minutes to get across town. And you know how much I hate to be the last ones. I hate that damn look he gives each and every time."

"Warrick, man," Nick gestured down to himself, "Unless you want me to get in trouble for going to the doctor looking like this, give a guy a second to get ready. Geez, always in a hurry. Man can't wake up and relax at all in his own damn house."

"If you got your ass up and ready in time, we wouldn't have to deal with this. Just move, bro."

Nick saluted Warrick before he turned to head into his bedroom, "Yes Ma Brown."

This time he walked across the threshold with little thought; playing it cool to the man he knew was watching his every move. But he jumped for the light switch as soon as he could make it out. The light bathed him in warmth. Nick gave himself only a moment to take it in before jumping to get dressed. They couldn't be late to another session.

"Don't know why you always insist on getting there so damn early in the morning, 'Rick. Ain't going to matter what time of day we go. We can talk with everyone and change up the time," Nick mumbled as he walked back out towards his friend.

He found the other man leaning on his kitchen counter, water bottle in his dark hand, "Just don't like a lot of traffic to deal with, especially after. 'Sides, everyone else gets off at this time and it just works. So shut up and get a move on."

Nick left it well enough alone. He knew Warrick had his own issues with everything to deal out as well. But, deep down, he was glad to have his best friend there, for all of it. Seemed unfair and all, but it helped more. Unlike having everyone else there as well. That just opened and spoiled too many other cans of worms.

"You taking the book?"

The question dragged Nick out of his thoughts quickly, "Nah, not yet. Just started last night, finally. Should earn a gold star this time around."

It was a weak attempt for a joke and a smile. Neither man took the bait. In fact, Warrick seemed a little more uncomfortable about everything now.

"Yeah, been meaning to work on mine. Have it open to the first page and everything, but…ya know. I keep having Tina remind me about it, but it just isn't working. What made you start yours?"

"I dunno," Nick shrugged as he locked the door behind them as they left, "Just did. Might actually help."

Warrick watched his friend as he engaged the alarm system and turn to face the morning sun, "Yeah, who knows. Weirder shit has happened before."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

seventy one days earlier, crime lab_…_

Only thing odd about the shoe was the white substance Nick found caked up in one of the treads. Nothing else stuck out. Went over it with a fine toothed comb and nothing. And he had been so sure it would help with everything.

Nick sighed and leaned forward on his stool, bringing his head to his hands. He closed his eyes and tried to clear out his mind. It didn't work. Any sort of calm was lost on him. But he was glad it didn't explode into a full panic attack.

He had been having them fairly recent as of late. The cases they had been dealing with brought them out of him. Like that damn bug on his arm. Nick never had been so happy in his life than in that moment, knowing no one saw him freaking out because of a bug on his arm. And _no one _really meaning Grissom.

Other than that little incident, Nick had been on the ball that case. It was his first big one back with the gang, after his "recovery" time. And Nick had made sure the others would see he was fine and could handle anything. A car blasting through a trailer was nothing. Nick Stokes could handle anything.

Now, he was being taken down by a damn shoe. It was his newest low. Nick shook his head and let out a bout of laughter. There was an edge of hysterics underlining it.

The door opened slowly without him really realizing it. No, Nick only was aware of the crashing, crinkling sound of several bags being dropped onto the table next to him. He threw his body up too fast, equilibrium went wacko. Nick ended up falling to the side, taking the stool down with him to the floor.

"Oh shit," Nick threw out his left arm to stop his head from smashing into the linoleum.

"Hey man," Warrick cried as he jumped forward to catch the falling CSI, "Watch it."

The scene was almost exactly as Warrick remembered another one being. But then, there had been a hot tub and Greg laughing away. And Nick hadn't walked away from it without any injury. Warrick knew he would never forgive himself if he allowed Nick to get hurt due to something stupid again. His something stupid that was.

Nick landed, grunted, and simply sat breathing downward. Nothing broke in the fall, other than about a hundred blood vessels in his cheeks and ears. His face was really, really red. The heat was enough to roast a turkey.

"Nick, here. Let me help you up."

A hand was reaching down to him. Nick turned his head enough to look up at it, trying to hide the flush of embarrassment from Warrick's vision. But he also wanted to get up off the damn floor. He threw his hand out for the help.

"Thanks, bro," Nick mumbled under his breath as he kept his head down. His hand shook a little as he reached down to grab the stool. Warrick beat him to it.

"No problem. Didn't mean to freak ya out though. Deep thoughts?"

"Just wondering about the scene Catherine and I worked tonight. Got a shoe, off the foot of the vic, but nothing major out of it. Only trace was a white substance on the bottom. Hodges will just be so pleased that I have nothing big for him to do."

Warrick shrugged, "So what. Hodges can just shut up and do his damn job. You only can take him what ya got. If that's it, tough shit."

"Yeah, tough shit," Nick laughed a little more, almost the same as before, "Tough shit for me. And Catherine. Girl is dead and we got nothing. Man…"

"Well, you keep working away and I'll try to figure my own crap out. I have to take a look at some samples we pulled from the area around the body. And ya know how much I love doing that kinda crap."

It was enough to get Nick to smile a little, "What did ya say last time? Loved it enough that you'd eat some of your Grannies' liver pie?"

Both men looked at each other for a moment and shuddered at the thought. The woman knew how to cook, no doubt, but liver pie was just not something either wanted to think about. Warrick smiled a little to see some of the tension and pain leave Nick's eyes. And he also noticed the Texan relaxed his shoulders a little with company in the quiet room with him. It was enough.

"You print it yet?"

Nick looked up sharply at the question, "Oh man. Didn't even think about doing that. I really should, shouldn't I? I mean, could prove someone else touched the shoe, it was off after all. And then we can figure out who it would be, since how many people touch other people's shoes? Not something I think most people do, especially if they aren't married and all of that. Should have thought of that…"

"Whoa, whoa, Nicky!" Warrick laughed a little, holding out his hands to stop the man, "What's with the tirade? I mean, geez, haven't heard you ramble off like that in a long time."

"Just that I'm a complete and utter idiot. I should have thought of printing it as soon as I lifted the substance. Instead I didn't think anymore about what could be done."

"Hey, its been a long night and mistakes happen. At least it was caught now and not later, right?"

The shorter CSI simply shrugged and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, later would mean I'd have to answer up to Grissom for my screw up. I owe ya one man. Saved my hide."

"Eh, you'd have done the same thing for me. This kind of stuff happens. It's an odd case to begin with and you're going to collect and document everything anyways. No need for anyone to have to worry about anything," Warrick stated as he started to get his things ready for normal CSI procedures.

Nick didn't say anything more. He watched his friend work on the evidence from his scene, noticing how Warrick went over everything, eyes squinted. Deep down, he knew Warrick would have printed the shoe almost immediately. It slipped his mind. And it made him wonder what else he might have been missing.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Jim Brass walked slowly down the hallway to his office, nodding at officers on his way. He was tired. It was going strong into his second shift after taking a day shift from another detective. And he really didn't like working days with those day CSI's.

He pushed his door open with a shove and slammed it behind him with a sweep. It was dark, only light was coming through the blinds from the hallway. Jim almost wished to keep it that way, but knew that would bring people asking questions and concern for what was wrong.

There were several folders sitting, waiting for him right in the middle, right in front of his comfortable chair. He heaved out a breath as he looked down on the numerous manila containers. His fingers twitched at the thought of signing signature after signature on each of those forms. '_Really should get one of those stamps the mayor uses.'_

A yawn cracked his face right open and he let the chair take the burden he had been carrying around all day. Alone in his office, he could lay off the humor and wise guy remarks. Now he could let it all go and just breathe a little.

Jim reached up and grabbed the photo of his baby girl. Looking at it always brought a smile to his face. And not one of those smiles Stokes and Brown harassed him about. It was a real one, a fatherly one. His thumb brushed over the beautiful face for a moment, forgetting the problems he had with Ellie. But a knock came on his door.

He quickly put the photo back into place, checking it over twice to make sure it lined up perfectly with the dust marks already left behind. Jim had an appearance to keep and he wanted to keep the newbies in line and in fear.

"Come in."

The door opened quickly and Sam Vega walked in without a word, followed closely by Sophia Curtis. They were quite an odd couple, but Jim could forgive them for it. Besides, they did make his job easier, most of the time.

"What can I do for you two?"

Neither said a word as they each took a seat in the two chairs sitting in front of the large desk. Sam stared straight at Jim; Sophia looked around at the wall behind the older man's head.

Both were trustworthy officers and Jim was glad to have them working with him. He had been a little doubtful of Sam at first, but the man had proven himself time and time again. The man was a great fit with the graveyard CSI's and that made Jim the happiest.

And Sophia had knowledge in both worlds. She had been a great CSI under Ecklie's day shift and now she was becoming an excellent detective under his watch. There was some underlining tension between her, Sara, and Grissom, but Jim didn't really know what to make out of it. The three of them had seemed to work well together when Ecklie played God for the last time.

"There a reason you're both in my office right now? Or should I simply start playing Clue without you?"

Sam opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it once again, this time getting words out, "We might have a new serial on our hands."

"That all? And here I thought we had something serious coming onto our hands now," Jim leaned back in his chair, hands linked on his chest.

"It is serious, Jim," Sophia rested her elbows on her knees, "Three victims, one night. This could be the start of something bad."

"What do you have?"

"I was out with Catherine and Nick. Girl in an alley, two gun shot wounds, back and neck. I haven't touched base with them yet, but it's still early yet. And I've got to contact any family I can. We have a name on her, identification."

Jim nodded for Sophia to add whatever was making her leg twitch, "I was at Grissom's scene. Two girls, same M.O. as Sam's. And from what it appears, it was only the sight of the drop. I talked to Gil and he was currently in autopsy with Robbins. He was going to call me once they had something to go on."

"So we have three victims, killed the same way. Sam, yours a drop?"

The shorter man shrugged and ran his hands through his dark hair, "From what I heard Catherine saying, most likely. Not a lot around there to go on. Busy area with businesses. Can't really trust anything on the street."

"So, we really don't have a lot to go on?" Jim asked, frown covering his brow.

Sophia shook her head, blonde hair whipping about, "No, unfortunately. I looked things over before the CSI's even got there. Going to be a tough one. Like Sam, this was a busy area, couple of warehouses in the area. Tire treads are hard to time. Besides, it just started raining cats and dogs outside."

The three quieted, thinking hard. Rain meant lost clues, lost scenes. Jim could only hope his team had collected as much as they possibly could. But he knew there would be no blame on them for any of this if they failed to come up with a suspect or an original crime scene.

"Seems like we may have to wait for them to strike again. And hope they're dumb enough to make a mistake."

He looked at the two detectives across from him and knew they weren't happy to think about that. But if they lost everything to the rain and nothing came from the evidence, there really wasn't much more to do.

"Anyone get their contact info?" Brass shook his head at remembering what Sam had said a little earlier, "Sophia, your two girls?"

"I was going to wait to hear from Gil before I tried anything on that level. As far as I could tell, nothing on either," Sophia nodded her head at the other man, "Sam agreed with me that I'd help him with his girl and family.

"Alright. Just keep me up on it. I'm still stuck on helping day shift with their stuff. As soon as I'm free, I'll give ya a call and see what I can help with."

All he received was a couple nods of their heads and then their backs as they left the office. Jim rubbed at his face with both hands before laying them flat on the folders. He turned his eyes back to his daughter. Even she failed to remove even the faintest line from his troubled face.

His phone rang and Brass almost growled at the damn thing. He picked it up and barked into it, "Yeah?"

"Uh huh…Alright…I'll let them know right away…No, someone will be coming. Just wait for a few minutes…Yeah, bye."

He slammed the phone down onto the receiver and rubbed at his temples. Jim knew he couldn't sit behind his desk, in his chair for much longer. No, there was a new case and the graveyard shift needed to start working on it. A break-in and a group of people running away in the backyard was something you couldn't just put on the back burner.

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the wait. Let's get onto some more case stuff. Should sound familiar, but trust me, it is important. Just a whole lot more set up, not going to be a short story in any case. Stick it out with me and I promise something big later! Review as always! Thanks!

**Chapter 6:**

_"**How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single minute before starting to improve the world."  
Anne Frank **_

seventy one days earlier, morgue_…_

Only a few times in his entire career could Gil say a camera had pissed him off. Most of the time it was a camera attached to a loud and obnoxious reporter asking for details he just didn't care to give. Sometimes, it was a video camera while he was forced to stand next to the mayor or the police chief for some interview he didn't care about.

Now, it was a camera held in the hands of his colleague, Catherine. She was only doing her job, documenting their progress with the girl, but it was enough to annoy him. Grissom wanted nothing more than to take it all in slowly, watching for anything that should cause his eyes to double take.

There were several bruises on the girl's torso, one wrapping from front to back. And there were several different samples pulled from underneath her fingernails. The young girl had not gone quietly. He could only hope something they pulled carried a little D.N.A. in it.

Another flash reflected off his glasses. Gil frowned as he looked up at Catherine. But the blonde woman paid him no mind, keeping a running dialogue up with Robbins as the two worked in tandem with the other. He shook his head and looked back down at the girl.

"So, she was ruffed up before she was killed. But the bruises aren't universal, different shaping with each," Catherine observed aloud as she focused on a large black spot up the girl's right hip.

"No, from the extent and placement, I'd have to say she was kicked. And while she was lying down at that. Whoever grabbed her, wanted her to suffer."

"Still can't believe neither of the other two had no identification on them. The girl from my scene had a fully loaded wallet on her, identification that would make immigration happy."

Gil cleared his throat, receiving the desired attention, "Makes some sense if you think about it. Proves that it might have been two different groups of people that attacked these women. One group may have cared about leaving I.D. for the two, while the other might not have thought about it."

"True," Catherine raised a hand to her mouth, bottom lipped pulled in by her teeth, "But why not keep them all together, kill them together. Seems pointless to get two groups together to make different hits."

"Maybe that's just how they work," Robbins asked as he moved towards his tool table.

The two CSI's shared a look, but it was a lost cause at that moment. They'd have to set up Sara or Greg with the missing person's reports and see if they could find a match. And to check CODIS as well, see if either girl had a record that might lead to family or more evidence.

"Anyone contact the first girl's family yet?"

Catherine shook her head and gave a sad smile to the coroner, "Not yet. I think Sam was going to look for them while we did the processing. He was worried about us not getting enough time with the scene due to the weather."

"Hmm, I'm sure it'll be soon enough then."

It fell silent again, other than the clinks of metal on metal and the soft whirl of the camera in Catherine's hands. Grissom moved down the table, close to the girl's feet. She had been wearing shoes, no chance of getting a transfer with the bare feet. But there was an interesting marking around the left ankle.

"Hey Catherine, you see this?"

He listened to her move closer to him, "What?"

"This. This mark on her ankle."

The latex of his glove did nothing to fight off the chill the skin had taken in these many hours past death. Grissom prodded at the angry line that started at the back of her ankle, right over the Achilles' tendon and ended just above the start of the foot. It wasn't a cut, just a stark, red line.

Catherine made sure to get some photos of it, but didn't know what it was, "No idea what that is. Might be from a weapon they used on her. Have to keep a look out for something that could do that."

There was a loud clank from behind then and Gil turned to look over at David as he moved the first victim from the gurney to the freezer table. The younger man had dropped a bowl with a push of the girl's foot.

David blushed, smiled slightly, "Sorry." He went right back to what he was doing, avoiding making any more eye contact with the others in the room.

The supervising CSI felt his lips quirk a little. Grissom turned his attention back to the girl and was about to move to the other side of the table when his phone started to vibrate in his pant pocket. He reached for it and looked at the display.

"Grissom."

He looked up and noticed Catherine had stopped her work to watch him talk on the phone, "Hey Jim. What do you need?…New case?"

The detective told him about what the house owner had called into the station. Someone had broken into his house, raiding his kitchen for food. The man had been dirty, almost savage like once the home owner entered the kitchen to see what was going on. There was a chase into the backyard where several move people had been found.

But it was the dead body they left behind when they all ran that was the reason CSI was really going to be needed for this one. Grissom listened intently, nodding even though he knew Brass would never be able to see him.

"Alright. Catherine and I'll be on it right away. We'll see if we need to pull anyone else once we get to the scene. See you there."

He flipped his phone closed, ending the call. The two coroners had moved away, finished up their jobs, leaving the two CSI's alone at the table. David was starting to gather his supplies for the field run, his beeper going off in no time.

"Catherine, D.B. with a possible gang angle. We'll have to wait on this evidence to be processed any ways. Can't wait for day to take this one."

"Sure, sure. Let's just get going. You said we might pull the others to help?"

"If needed, yes. One case needs to be solved at least. I'm going to grab my hat. Meet you outside by the truck."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick rubbed his right hand across the back of his neck, trying to rub out the knot of tension he had felt building over the past few minutes. His eyes burned a little from the tight searching he had been doing over his evidence. A yawn suddenly split his face across the middle, lips pulled back showing almost every one of his teeth, drawing the attention of the other man in the room with him.

"You not sleeping again?" Warrick asked as casually as he could. He could hear Sara's warning from out in the hall echoing through his head about giving Nick his own space and time to come forward with any of his problems. But Warrick was only so patient of a man, especially with his best friend and all the trouble the man found. It was part of his duty to help his friend out with anything.

But Nick could hear the concern, almost taste the worry on those words, "Eh, some nights better than others, but who doesn't have issues sleeping every now and then. Happens, man."

It was a complete blow off and both men knew it. Warrick bit his bottom lip to try to keep quiet and not burst off on the other man. He understood Nick was having troubles even after all this time. Hell, he would have been more worried if he didn't. But he didn't like being told off like that, kept away when he felt he could offer some help. Not sleeping a couple hours here or there was nothing. Missing night after night was something serious and could cause more problems.

He cleared his throat a little, nervous about his new question, "Still on any of those pills from the doctors?"

Silence seemed to swallow the two whole. Gazes were kept down, not wandering towards any new direction. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped a couple of degrees.

"Nah, finished those up way before I came back the first time. Don't need 'em. It's been a couple of months now. Not healthy to keep taking pills for something that doesn't exist." It was final, no room for any additional questioning or pushing. Nick pushed the unwarranted anger away. He knew there was no reason for it. His friend was just concerned, no need to get in his face about it. Something deep inside his head kept reminding him if he were more open with everyone, these worries would never happen.

"Oh, well, then, that's good, I guess," Warrick said slowly, pausing just enough between the words. Though he doubted Nick really didn't need any prescribed help. He himself hated having to take pills for things, but was wise enough to see the value in them for certain cases. And this was a very prominent case.

Each went back to the items in front of them, pretending to get back to work. Both tried to forget the little discussion, but it brought up more things in each of their minds. Nick just wondered if things would ever get back to normal, if there had ever been such a thing. He would probably go into some sort of shock from the simplicity of normal and beg for something to happen. But it had been a few months since it happened…it all would go away…more time needed. Hysterical laughter built up in the back of his head at that thought, freedom from their worries, concerns.

A beeper shrilled off. A cell phone vibrated to the end of the table.

Nick jumped forward to catch his phone before it fell. That was not something he wanted to take up with Ecklie right now. Broken cell phones were one thing, but to break it in the safety of the lab was another. His ass would be grass with something like that.

He flipped it open and pressed it up to his face, "Stokes."

Movement to his side proved Warrick had gotten his pager and was attempting to find which pocket he had slipped his cell phone into. It would have been much more humorous if not for the information Vega was feeding into his ear.

"…dead body left behind…group of people wandering desert…break in…case on hold…higher priority…wait until they contact you…"

Waiting for contact meant he would have to be ready to go at any moment, "Alright. Call me as soon as I'm needed. Bye Sam."

His phone snapped shut and he noticed Warrick had finished talking to whoever it was he had called to answer the page. They simply looked at each other, trying to judge the other's reaction to their call.

"New case," Warrick supplied.

"Yep, same here. Who paged you?"

"Grissom. Said to pack it all up and make sure it would be ready to go once the new case was taken care of. When you have suspects and directions, other cases lose out. But at least we can come back and take a look at all of this with new eyes later. Might help."

Warrick shrugged tightly and began gathering up his evidence, getting the plastic bags ready for sealing. He could feel Nick still watching him, but didn't have time to think about it too much now. This sounded like a group murder and they would all have to be ready to get to work. He finally found his voice towards the end of his clean up.

"What'd you get?"

Nick scrunched his eyes up a little, "Most likely same as you. Sam said everyone was being pulled for it. Going to wait for the call."

"Hmm, Grissom didn't mention a word about everyone coming."

For some reason that stuck hard at Nick and almost forced his jaw to clench. He caught it in time, enough so Warrick couldn't see when the other CSI finally looked up at him.

"Almost ready to fridge the stuff?"

"Ah, yeah. Just a little bit more," Nick scrambled to gather up his items, making sure nothing was dropped or labeled wrong. It only took a couple of minutes, but under Warrick's watchful stare, it was an eternity.

"Done. Let's go. I have to fill my kit back up. Have to be ready."

The taller man nodded and waved for Nick to leave the room first. It was a short walk down the hallway to the storage room. They labeled a box and listed all the information on the sticker for the front of the thing. And Warrick printed large that it was an active investigation, caution at all costs. Even with no more leads, it would be devastating to lose anything they already had.

They walked back to the door together, nodded, then split. Nick walked slower, back into the bowels of the lab, watching Warrick walk to the doors. His face remained blank, passive. It showed perfectly how he felt inside. The eyes were the windows to the soul. Nick's was open for business.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The night sky had died away, yet beaming in all its full glory, the meteor shower having shown off what the heavens could really do. It had been an awe inspiring sight, but one had to have the ability to look up from the ground to watch the natural act. Which meant no dead bodies lying in the grass.

David Phillips kept his eyes down and tight on the liver thermometer he was using on the body. It was a young man, beaten and bloody. The homeowner had heard something in his kitchen only to discover a dirty man rummaging through his fridge. David could still hear him talking things over with Brass behind him and how upset he was about having his backyard turned into a crime scene.

A beep drew his attention even tighter and he removed the device from the dead body on the grass at his feet. There was a reading of 80.6, placing the murder at twelve hours earlier. It was enough to cause David to frown.

David sat back further on his heels and studied the man a little more, camera now lose in his right hand. There was a piece of shirt missing, but from the beating the man looked to have taken, it probably was lost in the fight.

There were footsteps behind him, voices joining in the thumping. Catherine and Grissom were talking quietly with Brass about what they knew so far in this new case. From what he heard, David knew the entire team would probably be coming in on this one. Someone had to chase down the people that had run from the homeowner when the man turned on his porch light.

He turned to look at the CSI's, the morning light strongly lighting up the two faces, one shadowed slightly by a large brimmed hat. David smiled to himself at the sight. It made Grissom look foolish, but the young coroner would never mention a word of that thought. Well, maybe to Nick and Warrick when they were alone in the break room or something.

A smile came to his lips, but it quickly disappeared when Grissom met his gaze, "Been dead for about twelve hours. Beating from what I can tell right here and now."

"Alright, get him back to the lab. Let me know as soon as you have anything on it."

It was one of the few times that so little was spoken between the young man and any CSI when first at a crime scene. David didn't quite know what to make out of it. But there was little he could do anyways. Just shrug and get the body bag. And that's exactly what he did.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It was hot. Desert hot. Catherine twisted up her hair and tied it back into place with a spare tie she kept in her pocket for such an event. One of the few times she thought about shaving it all off to avoid things like this. But she had such an odd shaped skull that it'd never work.

Her thoughts were cut off by the appearance of two other CSI's on the scene. She smiled at Sara and Warrick as they walked over to where she was standing.

"He's got that hat on again," Sara commented dryly.

"Hmm, yeah. Tried to get him to leave it in the car, but he said it'd help fight dehydration and sunburn."

Warrick snorted, "Picture that. And I really mean get a picture of that. Hat looks like it should be buried under a pile of moustache clippings."

Both women shook their heads, chuckling a little as they watched Warrick try to find any fashion sense in that straw thing. Catherine really didn't think the man would ever get rid of the damn thing. They might have to steal it and make it magically disappear sometime in the near future.

"Body gone already?"

"Yeah, David left a few ago. What we need is the kitchen looked over and these footprints cast. And I really don't want to do it," Catherine smiled and walked away without another word.

"Yeah, figures," Warrick groaned and looked over at Sara, "What you want?"

Sara smiled a little and placed her hands on her hips, "What, no game to decide?"

"No, never again. Just pick one."

The comment was quiet, disheartened that Sara had to do an instant replay of the words in her mind. Despite the heat, her skin lost a little bit of color once she realized what she had said and what had happened the last time a case was decided on a game.

"Sorry. I'll take the kitchen. Need to get out of this sun a bit. Okay with you?"

Warrick nodded curtly and walked away without another word. He knew he was acting childish, but he couldn't help it. It was a big deal and he wished people would think first before making those kinds of random questions. What if Nick had been standing right there?

There were dozens of different footprints spread all over the yard. Many were right on top of each other. Warrick grabbed one of the officers on the scene to get an idea of where the cops and emergency crew had walked in the area. It still left a lot of work to do.

He kneeled down to get to work on his first one when he noticed that Grissom was waving Catherine to walk with him, "Hey, where you to going?"

"For a walk," Grissom answered with nothing else, but to show Warrick the full lines of his back.

Catherine shrugged to Warrick who simply rolled his eyes and began to work on the dirt below his hands. The female CSI turned back quickly and stretched out her gait to catch up to Grissom who was already a good ways away from the yard. Man sure could walk fast when he wanted to.

There was a good trail for them to follow, but Catherine couldn't figure out where in the desert these people would be heading, "Hey, isn't Pahrump like thirty miles from here? Who would walk that far, in the desert, in the middle of the night with a dead body?"

"That's what we're going to figure out," Grissom kept his eyes to the ground. The footsteps, wrappers, and, most importantly, the drag marks spread out into the horizon. Whoever these people were, they didn't travel in short distances. "Look for anything that resembles tire treads. Might have had a car out here waiting, so no one would be able to see anything."

"But the house owner said they looked filthy. Not bloody filthy, but dirty. Why drive a dead body around in a car covered in dirt? Makes no sense to me."

The sand shifted around his feet with every step that Grissom took, but it never threw off his balance and he walked smoothly, "Well, there might have been some wind that kicked up the sand. Might have been covered in sand by the time they got to the backyard."

"And they broke into that house. If they could afford to drive a car out here, then they should be able to make a swing into McDonalds. They have a dollar menu."

"I don't know. Maybe this wasn't a planned murdered and they had to run from wherever they were at. Leave everything behind, go back at a later time."

"Leave the money, but grab the keys. I dunno, Gil. Most people keep that all in the same area. Not hard to grab it all in one swipe."

Grissom opened his mouth to comment some more, but something in the distance caught his attention. He squinted against the sunlight that hit his eyes even with the protection of his hat. There was smoke rising. Pointing it out to Catherine, they picked up their pace. The trail led straight into that direction.

"Here's our car," Catherine stated the obvious as they walked up to the burned out car sitting in the middle of nowhere. They had even merged off the main trail they had been following a little bit back. But it wasn't far from here. "Group didn't use this at all."

"And why not leave the body in a car used in an arson case," Grissom waved to the open gas cap, "Instead they drag it somewhere. We walked about three miles from that house, Catherine."

They took an outer look at the car, walking in a large loop in order not to disturb any of the footprints that might be close to the vehicle. Grissom finally got curious and began to walk towards the car, but was stopped again. He could hear something.

"You hear that?"

Catherine watched him cock his head this way and that, trying to hear something. She slowed her breathing and focused her attention outward, "A humming."

They shared a look and began to follow the sound, away from the car. It got louder and louder, stranger and stranger. There was nothing out here, no houses. Catherine couldn't figure out what might be in this area that would hum.

Grissom found the generator and scratched at his chin. His feet kept moving and he walked towards the odd shadow he could see in the sand. It was an opening, stairs. He frowned, deep lines cutting across his forehead.

"It's a bunker. Probably military. And it appears to still have power."

"I'll call Jim," Catherine grabs up her phone and begins to work at the buttons. Her signal is dropped. Walking a little more out into the sun, Catherine raised the phone more into the air and tried again. "Nothing. Can't get anyone."

Turning back towards Grissom, she notices that they had found their trail of wrappers again. All the footsteps led right to where the stairs cut down into the earth. Her hand reached down to the weapon at her hip. The weight felt good in her hand.

"Alright, let's go in. Nice and slow. Keep an eye for anything," Grissom pulled out his gun as well, keeping the barrel pointed downward. He held it in both hands and began to walk downward into the darkness.

There was a chill in the air once they got inside. Catherine crinkled up her nose at the smells that assaulted them, but kept moving down the stairs that just kept coming. They went down a good ways into the ground, finally coming to a leveled off section to the bunker.

Art work covered the walls, shining in the little amount of light offered by the lights handing in the middle of the ceiling over their heads. Grissom led the way, admiring the pieces while trying to listen for any movement in the front of them.

A door stood at the end of the hallway and was closed. Both CSI's took a standing position on either side. Grissom caught Catherine's eyes and made sure they were about to do this. This was where the people had run after their body dump and they probably weren't looking forward to anybody coming to arrest them.

Taking a deep breath, Grissom threw the handle and pushed the door inward. Both gun leading, they walked into the room, ready to order people to drop to the ground. Their breath was stolen from them.

Twelve beds. Eleven men and women. Death hung heavy in the room.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick kicked at the tile of the lab hallway flooring. He held his phone tight in his right hand, waiting for it to go off. For something to do. And his anger was at high levels right now, having to watch Greg leave to the scene before him. It was sort of insulting.

Every time he spun to begin his pacing back up the hallway, his eyes were always drawn to Hodges and that damn questioning smirk on the trace man's face. It made Nick want to go in and slap him silly or something. His nerves were on edge enough without that guy making faces at him.

Mia slid past him, smiling as she walked on. Everyone had been doing that. It was the main hallway and all, but no one offered him anything more than that annoying smile. Even Bobby had done the same thing. That other Southern man never was quiet around him before.

He just spotted Ecklie coming towards him when the phone in his hand sparked to life, "Stokes. Yeah, be there in a few."

Brass had been quick, but to the point over the phone. It was enough for Nick to bolt away from the man coming his way. But Nick couldn't help, but wonder how the case was suddenly in the middle of the desert and not at that house Sam had mentioned earlier. He stopped thinking about it once he was in his SUV, eating up the blacktop towards the sea of sand.

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Thanks to the few that review. It is great to hear from you and I promise, one of these times, I'll answer back. Now, another piece to the mess, this time back in "present" tense with our dear team. And if anyone is wondering, I have met a doctor like the one you'll read in this chapter. Hate her, love her, but I just had fun writing it. See ya later! Bye!

**Chapter 7:**

_**"I have almost forgot the taste of fears.  
The time has been my senses would have cool'd  
To hear a night shriek, and my fell of hair  
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir  
As life were in't. I have supp'd full with horrors;  
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,  
Cannot once start me."  
---- Will - Macbeth**_

present_…_

Every single time (just a simple once a week, still) they went to these so called meetings, the drive seemed to get shorter and shorter. It was almost pointless to comfortable in the truck at all. As soon as you got settled, you were expected to get out and walk the pavement that was lying out in front of that annoying red door.

Nick really didn't get that one. Counselors just didn't seem like people who should have red doors to the entrances of their offices. It threw people off. Well, it threw Nick off. He was used to red doors in Texas, but they opened to welcoming houses with fresh aromas of home made cooking. Not to stern looks, concerned looks, or no looks at all. Certainly not journals begging for feelings and emotions.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to follow after Warrick once they were both standing, the doors having been shut. Everyone else's cars were already in the small lot. Two lab SUV's proved that for some, work would resume right after this half hour of mini hell. Nick could feel his fingers twinge at the thought of getting back to work.

"You gonna just stand there all day? Let's get in there and get it over with. And I told ya we'd be the last ones…again."

The tone was meant to be stern, but Warrick couldn't quite pull it off. He understood somewhat at watching Nick take in the other vehicles. Work was something they both were pulling for right now, but they had to get in this meeting so they would get approval from the doctor. Grissom wasn't about to let them back to work too early, this time. Every precaution was being taken on this new development. And, Warrick knew he would be the one allowed back in first.

But he had to agree with Nick that the door was ridiculous as he reached up to push the thing open. And it wasn't a calming red at that. Bright and shiny. Seemed to be there to ward away bad spirits, or at least the I.R.S. Good thing bulls were few and far between in the city of Vegas.

There was a short hallway, lined with brown checkered carpeting. The walls were painted a pale blue, almost chalky in appearance. Several lights hung down from the ceiling, emitting a green light, and Warrick had to watch his head as he walked. Another door, this one black, greeted them. One of these times he would ask the doctor about getting a new interior decorator for this place. It was hideous.

Warrick turned to make sure Nick was still with him. The Texan was about three steps back; head downward allowing Warrick to only see the top of his brown head. It looked out of place against the checkers and paleness. But he shrugged and opened the new door. Everyone turned to look at them as they shuffled into the new room.

This one orange, green, and yellow. Circles were predominant in everything. Even the chairs were round. Their clothes offered a sickening addition to the environment. It was disorientating at first, but Warrick was easy to accept the mess of everyday things.

"Hey, sorry we're late. Sleeping beauty here needed a couple extra winks this morning."

The doctor was a middle aged woman with completely gray hair. It was long and pulled back into a loose, messy bun. Her clothes were white and flowed with her movement. But it was her smile that made Warrick feel more comfortable with this entire situation. It reminded him of his grandmother with a plate of cookies when he had a bad day at school.

"Oh, it's alright. Mr. Grissom actually just got here a couple minutes before you," Dr. Thelma Rietbrock waved them further into the room, "Seems there is a new exciting case that demands his entire attention."

Nick shifted his weight from foot to foot while still standing in the doorway as he looked at his boss, "You can leave if the case is that important. Don't want to hold anything back because of this."

"No such doing Nicky," Catherine spoke for the man. She was on the same case, but wasn't about to blow this off either. It was helping, for everyone. They needed this. "Case won't dissolve in thirty minutes. Besides, Sophia is looking into some leads for us. We can stay."

It really wasn't what Nick wanted to hear. He managed to avoid most of their glances, but got caught by Greg's persistence. The younger man smiled at him, trying to make a goofy face in the process. Nick merely nodded and took his seat. He missed the disappointment on the young CSI's face.

Dr. Rietbrock wasted no time in taking her seat and observing the people in front of her. It was a team, a unit yet they all looked disjointed around each other. Of course she knew exactly what had happened that fateful day, well days, and also what the past held for this team. She was impressed with their resilience in it all, but knew she had a lot of work to do yet.

"Alright, last time we left off with each of you taking home a notebook to start a journal in. I would like to go around the room and see what sort of progress you all have been making with it. And, if you haven't started it yet, explain why you haven't been able to. Ms. Sidle, would you please start."

That was not what Sara wanted. She wanted to go last, have more time to think up an answer. Now she was on the spot and everyone, almost everyone, was looking right at her, waiting. Sara shifted a little in her seat, arms dropped between her legs as she thought quickly.

"Well, I haven't exactly…started mine yet. I took it home and all, put it on the kitchen counter. But work has been really busy and I just haven't had time to think about my feeling and emotions about what had happened too much. I want it to make sense so I want time to think about it. But work has been really busy," Sara sped through and was a little breathless at the end of her speech. She looked down at the yellow carpet, hands twisting on each other.

"Hmm," Dr. Rietbrock took a second before speaking, "For the next session, I'd like for you to have at least one entry. Remember, this is for any feeling about what happened or what you might be experiencing now, in the aftermath of it all. This is your outlet, not for me or anyone else in the room, but for yourself. You don't have to tell any of us exactly what you write, just that you are writing. Mr. Sanders, what about you?"

Greg almost seemed excited at being called on next. He had wanted to start everything off and share his progress. "I'm going really well. I've written in it everyday since last week. Helps more than I would have thought."

"And what kinds of topics are you working around?"

"Mostly about how I felt during that week. So much still about that. Don't even know when I'll get to the recent stuff. But I've been feeling a little better since doing this."

"That's good to hear," the counselor took a look around the room before calling on someone else. The older CSI's each had picked something in the room to observe and study. She was sure none of four had heard a word Greg had said. Even the blonde woman seemed to be in her own little world. "Ms. Willows, what about you?"

Catherine had been listening, just had found it hard to look at Greg as the young man explained how it was working for him. She wasn't quite so lucky with hers. "Started to write some things down. Never been really good with journals."

"Well, you don't have to keep it in journal structure. You could make lists, illustrate if that would work better. Many of my patients find healing in drawing."

"Yeah, like I've got an artistic bone in my body," Catherine laughed, a bit forced, "But I've mostly gotten little tidbits and such down. Nothing concrete and most of the time I don't even remember where I was going with any of it when I got back to it. And it's hard with Lindsey. I find myself mostly going off about her and not about this."

"It's alright to approach other things as well. I know you've said your daughter and you have a…difficult relationship. That is something that affects you and how you are with other people. It is acceptable in this process. I'm hear to help you all move forward, with everything."

"Yeah, but it's just getting harder. I just don't know what to do. Can't keep up with my daughter and things are just getting harder in the lab. Being short two CSI's is not helping at all. I just want this all over. It wasn't like this before."

Her voice rose as did her body, but once she was done, Catherine collapsed back into the shaped plastic of the green chair she was sitting in. Movement to her right caused her to look over. Nick had pulled his arms up to his chest, tucking his chin down more into his body. Catherine closed her eyes and shook her head at what she had been so careless in saying. She knew Nick was feeling guilty enough about shorting the lab and she didn't need to rub it in his face.

"I'm sorry Nicky. I didn't mean it like that. I want you better, work can wait."

Nick shrugged, "It's okay. I understand."

The entire time Grissom sat in his chair, his eyes traveling between each of his CSI's. He was uncomfortable in all of this as they were, but Ecklie had forced his hand in this one. They weren't about to get off like previously. Someone else was going to help them work through their problems now. Maybe then they might resemble something of a group, the one from about two years ago would be good.

He watched Greg and Sara shift around in their chairs now that their turns were done for now. His eyes observed Catherine trying to show Nick how sorry she was for everything, but being turned down with a vengeance. And there was Warrick who just looked tired with it all. Grissom was so wrapped up with his watching that he barely registered his name being spoken.

"…Mr. Grissom."

"What? I'm sorry, but I missed what you said."

Dr. Rietbrock was patient, "I asked you about your progress. Please share with us."

Clearing his throat a little, Grissom looked directly at the doctor, "I've worked on mine some. Like Catherine, it's nothing concert, just sometimes a word or two."

"Does this seem to be working for you?"

"Almost, but I do find more release with a coaster," Grissom deadpanned, not really caring what sort of reaction this got from the doctor. He did get the reaction from his CSI's that he wanted. Some smiles, but most of all, Nick lifted his eyes from the floor for a split second.

"So, you as well need to concentrate and put a little more effort in for the next session. This is not some sort of punishment that I'm trying to inflict you all with. I have spoken to your lab director and he approved this step in your treatment. Now, Mr. Brown, what can I expect from you?"

Warrick slouched more in his chair, hands clasped on his lap, "Didn't realize this was treatment? Don't pills or something come with that sort of stuff?"

"No, I misused the word in this case, I guess. It's just a group therapy meeting that is meant to help you all out," Dr. Rietbrock was beginning to lose her patience and quickly, "But back to the journal?"

"Haven't started it. Thought about it, but other things keep coming up. Have a new wife to take care of as well," Warrick shrugged, face slightly indifferent.

"Have you even opened it?"

"Oh, sure, yeah. I made sure it was college lined, but not too much after that."

He knew he was receiving glares from the two female CSI's in the room, but couldn't bring himself to look them head on. Warrick chose to look at the cocky grin Greg was shooting at him and the frown Grissom was offering.

"Can you explain to me why this is so difficult for you do, Mr. Brown? What is the reason you can't bring yourself to write some thoughts down into a notebook that no one else is ever going to read unless you let them?" the doctor slapped her notepad down into her lap, smile completely gone from her lips.

"Never done it before. Doesn't seem all that worth wild to me. Pointless waste of time when I could be doing other things that really matter."

"What did you used to do in the past to deal with your feelings? Was there something else that pulled at you, made you do things to release stress or anger?"

This was enough to quiet the tall man. He had a feeling Ecklie had given this doctor a lot of information from their files, so she might just know about that little problem he had a couple years back. Warrick just didn't like her egging him on about it like she was. And from looking around, seems everyone else had an idea on what she was pulling at as well.

"What Warrick did in the past, before this, is not relevant to this discussion," Grissom was the one who spoke up, cutting Warrick off completely.

"I'm just trying to get a feel for how Mr. Brown deals with pressures under his own guidance. There is no underlining in what we are doing here, Mr. Grissom."

"Then we'll just leave it where it is. Warrick will have something written for next week. I'll see to it."

Dr. Rietbrock knew when she was beat and let it go. She knew she was being difficult, but wanted to get into this issue deeper than any of them were letting her. From reading notes from other people, the graveyard CSI's hadn't been whole for a long time now and she was determined to bring every skeleton out of the closets in order to do so. Unpleasant was to be expected.

"As long as there is some sort of progress then, otherwise, I'm going to have to insist on private meetings with each of you as well as this group one. Your supervisor has already signed an approval for such a move if deemed necessary. But I'm hoping we can work this all out together. Now, Mr. Stokes, that leaves you. Would you please tell us how you're doing with your journal?"

Nick had managed to keep quiet and still for the longest time. Glancing at his watch, he could see there was at just under ten minutes left until they were free to go. There was no getting out of having to speak. And she always seemed to save him for last, every time for the last three meetings.

He could feel the others looking at him, watching him for any sudden twitches that might arise. None of them seemed to have any faith in him for getting better on his own this time. They had left him alone fairly well after the box in the ground, but now, after what that man did to them again, he was not going to be left alone. It really bugged him they had lost faith in him for dealing with his own problems.

"Mr. Stokes?"

The calling of his name broke him out of his darkening thoughts, "Uh, sorry. Just thinking. Um, I got some stuff going with the book. Wrote a couple of times in it."

"And do you feel its helping any? Unloading those extra thoughts, not having them fighting for your attention at all hours of the day?"

Drawing in a deep breath through his nose, Nick actually thought about it in the context. He had to admit, it did take off some of the extra baggage he had been wearing. The problems were still there, buried deep in his being, but they were getting less and less complex. Nick had to admit that this was opening up doorways he never knew existed.

But he chose to shrug, "I guess. Have to give it a little bit longer."

"Well, keep up the work. Next week we'll talk about it again and see if it gets any better. Now, does anyone else have something they want to bring up before you are released?"

No one spoke up or even rose a hand. Everyone looked anxious to leave, to get on with the lives they were trying to piece back together. And there was that case pulling at Grissom. He had never been pulled in so much by a hit and run before, but this one was different. A dead girl left in her car, cell phone in hand, 911 ready to be dialed. Brass was supposed to have something new by the time they got back to the lab.

Dr. Rietbrock could tell their time was over, "Alright. So, I want progress for next week or I will be forced to go back and talk with Mr. Ecklie about the next step that should be taken. I'm not hear to cause more problems. I just want to help you solve past ones. Oh, and Mr. Stokes, can I see you for an extra minute?"

Grissom stood as soon as the woman was done talking, "Catherine, take Greg with and head back to the lab. I think Hodges might have something now. Sara, come with me. I want to go see Brass and see if we have a contact for the girl yet."

The other three CSI's stood and working any kinks out of their bodies that sitting in those chairs might have caused. Catherine stepped over to Nick and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. The Texan simply nodded his head and his lips turned up into a slight grin.

Warrick nodded to them as they passed him, slapped Greg on the back with a laugh when the younger man tried to offer him a high five. They were an odd bunch, but Warrick wanted them back to the way they used to be, even though it made them even weirder.

"Hey Nick, I'll be out by the car when you're done," Warrick stated as he followed the other from the room.

The remaining CSI watched the others with a longing, to be leaving with them, back on the case. Instead he was left behind, still in his uncomfortable chair waiting for whatever the doctor had to say.

"Mr., Stokes, Nick. I just wanted to know how things are going. I mean, just between you and me. I'm really glad to hear that you're having progress with the journal, but talking about things is still a good way to do things as well."

Nick rubbed at the back of his neck and looked down at the magazines that covered the table in the center of the room. He knew she wouldn't let him leave until he said something that pleased her questions. But even though she was a doctor, she was still essentially a stranger. And he would never be comfortable talking about his personal life with a stranger.

"I'm doing pretty well. I talk with my teammates when I need to. And my…mom. It helps."

"Well, if you ever need to talk more, I can schedule more time for you if needed. Don't forget that. Now, I don't want to keep your friend waiting. See you next week."

He bolted up from his chair and walked as fast as he could without running from the room. Nick hadn't even looked at Dr. Rietbrock again. The hallway checkers were a blur as he moved towards the red door. The sunlight was bright on the outside. He grabbed for his sunglasses and shoved them on his nose for his walk to the waiting truck.

Everyone else was already gone, but Warrick was grinning at him, "Hey Nicky, what about breakfast? Tina doesn't get off work for another two hours and I'm starving."

"Sure, bro. Let's hit the road," Nick smiled as he hopped into the truck.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

_Alright, so I seem to be the only one making progress on this writing thing. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. Makes me feel kinda weak or something. Like I need more hand holding than any of the others. I don't care how much more I've been through then them. Just don't like to be treated differently because of it._

_Being home, in the relative safety of my bedroom, I should feel more open and ready to tackle things on my own. But I just feel more alone and scared. Still have those dark corners everywhere that have to be avoided. And the frog is singing…_

_I just got off the phone with Texas. My mom's voice is always a nice thing to hear when I'm feeling down. And it does help that my father is off to work so he can interject his thoughts into a one-sided conversation. My second oldest sister did that enough._

_Seems they were having a little family get together, kids were out running around in back. I dunno, just seems like I miss a lot. Just can't get myself to go back._

_She talked to me a little, but not long enough before she had to book it outside to yell at someone. Always made me smile, my sisters as mothers. It is impressive on how much those other children of my parents help mold me. I just wish they had made me a little bit stronger._

_Overall, it had been a tense day. That so called meeting was just a waste. I really don't see the point of making us all suffer when no one wanted to be there or do anything. Nice thought that we were going to put things back right, but impossible. I see that now._

_Breakfast was fine. Warrick always seemed to know when to not push so hard. And pancakes were a great comfort food, especially with a lot of syrup. Then came the phone call._

_Now, just wanting nothing more than to write in this thing. It as confusing to me as I'm sure it is to most people. But I've been thinking all morning about that case in the desert. With the bunker._

_Everyone had been called to the scene at one point or another. Thought I really don't get why I was called so late in the day. Everything at the house had been well underway, that I remember. No, I was to help out with the bunker. That made a hell of a lot of sense!_

_Things like that make me wonder if anyone really saw me anymore at that time. I mean, I was buried under ground for about a day's worth of time and then, a few months later, they want me to process a bunker, that is underground. I did it though. Threw it all back into their faces._

_I remember this day clearly. It's one of those that I've forever got engrained in the deepest parts of my memory. There will be a couple more by the time this journal is complete. Sadly, so few of those are happy, or even just normal and calm._

_It had been hot, and I had the air cranked in the SUV. There were a lot of cops milling around, walking the sand. Most of them had looked bored since there wasn't much going on._

_Greg had been there of course, He had been called to the scene before me, by Grissom himself. It had pissed me off. I had seniority, but I've been screwed over with that before in my CSI career. And I bet it'll happen again._

_He was looking over some car. I had no idea what it was part of since no one had really told me what was going on with the case anyways. I waved, trying to act normal. Didn't want to let anyone know that I was nervous. Hands had been sweating and everything._

_But I'm sure one of the uniforms noticed. I was sweating on my face as well, but more than should have been warranted. And I can still feel how my hands had been shaking as I walked closer to the darkness that was starkly black against the yellow sand. _

_Time was something I was never a good judge at. Even as a kid I could never tell how long I was at a place without having a watch on my wrist so I could check it over. So I can't really be too sure of how long I had been standing outside the entrance to the bunker. Though I'm sure it should never have taken so long to get down there._

_After being buried alive, I can remember the smell of dirt that has never seen the sunlight before. It had been more stairs than I had been expecting, that was for sure. But one or fifty, they all took ya down. I think I only stopped once or twice on the trip. Passed a couple of cops, but didn't know who they were, still don't._

_If I close my eyes and think hard enough about it, I can still see some of the artwork that covered the walls. It was well done. I've never had much talent with the arts. I still can remember the book ends I had to make in high school pottery class. Nothing looked more like a mix of hedgehog, elephant, and sea monkey before. My mom still has the damn things though. I would'a thrown them away._

_But there was Catherine at the end of the tunnel. I don't know if she saw through my act or not, never mentioned a word of it. And I sure as hell will never bring it up. But I tried. I know I did._

_I took the job of processing the bottles that had been next to each bed. It was an easy way to get out of the place. Catherine could stay and handle everything else. She had help if she needed it. And I can recall she looked just fine in that cement hole._

_Of course, I didn't get out of that place as quickly as I thought I would. My CSI skills had still been kicked in and I couldn't have missed that blood on the ground by the elevator. Being the only one there, I forced myself to process it. And even took a trip in the elevator. It had creaked and shook on the way up, but I still got my evidence. _

_No one ever did comment on what that stuff helped with. And no one, even to this day, mentions how well I did on going down there. I haven't had a case since the involved the same things, but still, hearing job well done every now and then would be nice._

_It had been a long case with lots of turns throughout it. Sophia and I had found where they got the drugs to kill themselves with. It had been a big piece of the puzzle. _

_To this day, killing yourself is something I just don't get. I admit, I have tried/thought about it…twice. First time, yeah, I mean come on. I was in a DAMN BOX! How in the hell was I supposed to know if I was going to get out or not._

_I knew everyone was looking, but I wasn't awake for most of what had happened. I didn't even know where I was. How could someone else fine me? I didn't know about the clues, the video. I was just aware of the brown, the heat, and the bites._

_Second time, well, we're still getting there. I really have a lot of issues to work out, don't I? Seems sad now that I'm writing it all down. Didn't realize I needed to go so far back. My brain is a tricky bastard when I let it be._

_But several things needed to happen yet. And besides, I don't know if I can even write about what had happened, under his hands. Hell, I can't even write his damn name. _

TBC…


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Now, let us expand the grid and throw in some action. Layers upon layers. I can just hear the sighs of relief! Now, back to the past. Thanks for reviewing my friends. Bye!

**Chapter 8:**

_**By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.  
Genesis 3**_

seventy days earlier, crime lab_…_

His hands were still shaking. Nick couldn't figure it out, but they wouldn't stop. The bunker escapade had happened yesterday. Now he was safe in the lab, surrounded by friends and familiar faces, even though it was early morning.

Nick tried closing his eyes and counting back from ten to calm his nerves, but it only brought forth more images that he didn't want to see. His eyes snapped back open and he stared down at the bottles he had lined up. Swabs had been taken from each, now he was just waiting to hear his phone go off with a message from Hodges.

The paperwork from the blood samples was spread out to his right. Mia had been less occupied and was able to get to work on his stuff right away. She had a warm smile for him each time he had to go into the DNA lab. Nick almost was tempted to go wait in there with her.

He had read over the information from Sophia and knew he had a vital piece of evidence for the case. The blood proved to be from Ty Bentley. It proved his dead body had been taken from the bunker by the elevator, only to be dragged across three miles of desert and left in a backyard. And it was his car that was torched and left stranded.

They just didn't have to why yet for the body not being left down in the bunker while the others killed themselves. Nick knew they had the twelfth member of the cult, but hadn't seen or talked to her. He didn't know if he would be able to ever look into her face if given the opportunity.

Clasping his hands together tight enough to turn his knuckles white, Nick looked at his phone. As if by magic, it lighted up and began to trill. The ID proved it was from Hodges.

Nick quickly moved out into the hallway and towards the trace lab where, through the glass, he could see the large smirk on David Hodges face. He steeled himself and walked through the open door, ready for whatever he was going to get.

"Looking happy. Must mean you got what I need to know."

"Yeah, always your brain in these matters. Makes me see how people like Sanders could actually become a CSI and work in the field. Don't really have to think, you guys."

"Yeah, sure boss. What you got for me?"

"Well, I was able to determine the contents of the bottles for you. Looks like I broke the case on what they used to kill themselves, hmm."

"Uh huh, and that would be…?"

Hodges' smirk grew and he leaned a hip into the counter at his side. He reached towards the table for a single piece of paper sitting there. "Alright. Main ingredient was eight-proof vodka. They really knew how to party for their suicide party, didn't they? Mixed with a nice dose of Ketamine."

"Ketamine?" Nick tried to place the word in his memory, but was coming up short.

Now Hodges just looked bored, "Yeah, animal tranquilizer. Often comes in clear liquid form, but also is available in a white powder. Very easy to consume in drinks. In fact, it was a popular drug at clubs and raves. One of those club drugs. Or even as a date rape drug. Average cost for clinics is about $20-$25 a dose."

"Right. And if too much, looking at 'K-hole.'"

"Uh huh, out of body experiences, near death experiences. Or in our case, perfect death experiences."

"So, you have anything on where they might be able to get this stuff?"

"Yep, come on, Nick. Have I ever let you down?"

"Never boss, never. Now spill it."

"Alright, alright. I didn't find any traces of Ephedrine in the samples, which tells me that the drug was in liquid form to begin with. You need the other to cut it if it's in it solid form. And almost all veterinarians use it in their practices. I've already contacted Detective Curtis with the information and I'm sure she is already looking around. You might be able to hitch a ride with her."

"Okay, thanks David. See ya," Nick waved as he left the lab, excited to have somewhere to go with the information. He was cut off by Grissom and Catherine in the hallway.

"Hey Nick, what'd you get from the bottles or the blood samples?"

"Yeah, just got done with Hodges about the bottles. Seems they used a high dosage of Ketamine mixed with vodka. I'm going to get a hold of Sophia and see what we can come up with as a source. And the blood samples match the vic in the backyard."

Grissom nodded and began to walk back down the hallway, "Sounds good. We're going to head back out to the bunker. See what else we can get."

Nick watched his boss walk away from him, nothing more said. His attention was turned to Catherine when she cleared her throat and placed a hand on his upper arm.

"Good job Nick. That is a big help with this case. Now, I better get going or Grissom is going to leave me behind."

Left alone in the hallway, Nick felt a little self conscious and turned to head back into the lab he had been working in. He started to gather up his equipment and the evidence so it could be filed away in case anyone else needed to take a look at any of it. Once again, his phone interrupted his goal.

"Stokes…hey Sophia. You got something?…Nice…Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can."

He flipped his phone shut and worked a little faster, but with no less of care. Nick was excited to get something on the case that didn't involve having to go back into that damn bunker.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"Hey there good looking," Sophia Curtis greeted Nick as he walked over from his SUV. She watched the man walk, admiring his step. Nick was one fine looking man, but she knew she would never do anything about it. He was more fun as a friend.

"Hey. What ya got? Something good I hope?"

His eagerness made Sophia smile even more, "Well, seems that we had a little break-in here. And what a coincidence that it would be a vet clinic? So, yeah, though I'd check it out. Care to join me?"

"Love to. After you, of course," Nick bowed a little, left hand held out in front of him, palm up.

They walked to cement steps together and walked into the lobby. The veterinarian was already waiting since Sophia had already been in to speak with the short, red-headed woman. Nick greeted her with a smile and handshake before they were led into the back storage rooms.

"This is where we keep the drug cabinets. Only two keys for the locks. I have one and the other is kept locked up in the safe. I noticed this this morning when I came in and did the routine checks of the clinic. And as I told the detective here, all the Ketamine is missing."

Sophia nodded, "Thanks. Now, we're going to process the area. We must have this area kept clean until we are done."

"I understand. I have patients to attend to anyways. I'll be right out in the main clinic if you have any other questions."

The doctor walked away, leaving the two alone. Nick walked over to the glass cabinets and looked at them closely. From what he could tell, nothing else appeared to be missing from any other part of this room.

"Inside job?"

"Just reading my mind, CSI-boy. With only two keys and major security system on the doors, would have to be. Just have to figure out who."

"Well, I'll fingerprint this up and you get the records?"

"Be right back, Nick," Sophia clasped his shoulder as she left the room.

Nick turned to look back at the cabinet before setting his kit down on the ground. He shuffled through it looking for his brush and powder. Laughing a little to himself, Nick began to apply the pink powder to the handle and area around the glass.

"Never took you for a pink kinda guy there?"

"Yeah, ya know me. Full of surprises," Nick smiled at the female detective over his shoulder.

Sophia turned her attention to the lists she held in her hand, looking for any name that seemed familiar. "Hey, I think I found something."

"Yeah?"

"One Abigail Spencer. Weren't her prints on the funnel?"

"Hmm, I think so. Greg was dealing with the lifts. I'll get these new ones back to the lab and hopefully we'll make a match."

"Would be nice to get this case done. We still have that other one lurking in the corners."

Nick packed his kit up, samples carefully placed on the top, "Would be nice. But since there really isn't much more we can do here, let's get going."

They both gave the vet a quick talk before leaving the building. The morning sun felt good and Nick raised his face up towards the sky. Progress was always a good thing. As they got closer to their vehicles, they both could hear Sophia's police radio rambling off.

"We have a possible civilian assault over on Stewart Ave, close to N. 11th. Call from building facing alley way. Calling all units in the area. Proceed with caution, suspect may be armed. I repeat, possible assault…"

Sophia looked at her car, then back over at Nick, "We're close."

"Yeah, lets go. I'll follow ya," Nick said as he ran for the driver's side door of his truck. He slammed the key into the ignition and jerked the transmission into drive. Sophia had already taken off, pulling quickly away from the curb.

Nick quickly found the switch for his emergency lights and the outside was a wash of red and blues. It reflected off the hood of the vehicle, but he barely paid it any mind. The CSI was too busy trying to keep up with police sedan Sophia was using to whip around traffic.

His cell phone went off, but Nick didn't dare take either of his hands from the wheel as they barreled down the city streets at over fifty miles per hour. Houses and parked cars were almost a blur to Nick's tunnel vision. But he kept an eye out for anybody that might be dumb enough to step in front of a speeding car.

A sharp right turn set the SUV shuttering, but Nick was able to keep the wheel steady and he made the turn. There was a little bit lost, but with another push on the gas pedal, Nick was able to catch back up with Sophia. Until she made another sharp right turn, this time into a smaller street, lined with cars.

Nick had no choice, but to slam on the brake and cause his wheels to screech in protest. He knew there was no way he was making that turn at that speed without causing a lot of damage. It only took a couple of seconds, but Nick could see the taillights in front of him getting smaller and smaller.

Once the SUV was lined up nicely in the tiny lane, Nick gunned the engine and forced the vehicle to gain some quick mileage. He was unwilling to lose Sophia. She was still in front of him, but he was worried she would make some turn he would miss when it was his turn. His phone went off again, but Nick ignored it.

Brake lights went on and Nick could almost see the sedan lift in the tail end, towards the front wheels. Sophia turned quickly onto another street, one Nick knew they needed. He slowed as well, turning off his lights when he noticed that Sophia had done so with hers.

Compared to the case to get here, this was a crawl, a sneak. Nick kept his eyes open, head twisting all around looking for anything unusual. No one was out on the street, doors and windows closed up tight. But something sent a chill racing down Nick's back.

The sedan suddenly stopped in front of him. It was quiet and he watched as Sophia got out of her car. She waved to him and he slowly unlatched the door to slide out onto the pavement. Another gesture and Nick had his fire arm out in front of him.

They walked slowly together up a slight alley. It wasn't at all like the alleys they had looked at with the serial murders from the other night. This was a normal alley between houses and businesses, a few cars here and there, a trashcan. But they walked it slow, backs angled towards each other.

A chocked scream cut through the air, causing both to stop and look around for the sound. The gunshot was enough to send them both running up towards the yellow building. Next to the dumpster, there was a man and a woman. The man was still on his feet, the woman not.

"Freeze, LVPD! Drop the weapon and put your hands behind your head. Step away from the woman and get your hands up!" Sophia barked off the orders, gun trained onto the man's head the entire time.

Nick held his gun as still as possible, but he knew there was a slight tremor to the grip. His face was damp with sweat, shirt sticking to his back. But he kept it strong so he could help Sophia until more backup arrived.

The man simply looked up from the body, gun still smoking in his hand. Nick could see the woman, face down on the cement. From the blood pools spreading out in the cloth of her clothes, she had been shot. Twice. Lower back. Back of the neck.

It suddenly got colder in the area and Nick had to stop himself from hugging himself against the chill, inner and outer. This was the man they needed for the other cases. He had killed this woman, in an alley, with the same technique as the others. And they had heard the second shot.

"I said drop the weapon and put your hands on your head! Do it now!" Sophia yelled even louder, making sure the man had no qualms about hearing what she was saying to him.

He had piercing blue eyes, covered by shaggy blond hair. His skin was a dark color, olive tan. Large nose with thin lips over a strong chin. The clothes were simple, a pair of blue jeans and a red t-shirt. There was a small splatter of blood here and there. Enough that Nick would be able to connect him without a doubt to the murder they had walked upon.

But the guy wanted nothing to do with the orders he was receiving. Before Nick could even blink once, the gun was raised even higher and the trigger was pulled. Something hard slammed into his side and Nick was falling towards the ground. His eyes were still forward and he could see the man turning and running in the opposite direction.

"You hit? Nick?"

Nick threw his hands out and caught himself on his hands and knees. He could hear Sophia yelling at him as she got to her feet and began to run after the suspect.

"Nick? We need the car. Go get the car!"

The Texan pushed himself up, hands running up and down his torso looking for any holes that might be new to his body. It took him a second, but he realized he wasn't shot, just that Sophia had crashed into him to get out of the way. The blonde cop had a hit that was for sure.

Now that he was certain he wasn't going to bleed out from some odd spot on his body, Nick turned on his heels and raced back towards his truck. He had his keys out in mid-run, ready to go. The engine roared to life and he switched quickly into drive.

The angle into the alley was a little tight, but Nick pushed the SUV in and gunned it down it. He sat up straight in the seat trying to see Sophia running somewhere. It was a longer trip down the alley than he had thought it would be, but he eventually hit the end of it. Nick stopped at the end and looked back and forth up and down the street.

Sophia was standing, hands on her knees, a couple drives down to his left. Her chest was heaving with breaths as she tried to regain her air. Nick reached her in no time, window down.

"Hey, get in," he yelled out, "Where'd he go?"

"Up that way. Got in a damn Toyota something or another. Headed straight. Punch it."

With a push on the gas, the SUV thundered forward, following a trail that would hopefully still be there. Nick kept his eyes opened, darting from side to side looking for a car that was speeding or acting out of the norm. He could feel Sophia shifting around in her seat doing the same thing.

"There, he's there!" She reached over and slapped him on the arm, other hand pointing out the passenger side window.

Nick jerked the three ton vehicle to the right and roared down upon the Corolla that was trying to get away. Having the larger engine and the larger truck, it took very little for Nick to get right on the tailgate and ride it up the street. He lost a little distance with each turn they took, but he made it up. Nick was sure glad he had remembered to fill the tank that morning.

Sophia had a radio out in her hand, reading off the intersections and directions they were taking after the suspect. She had also called for an ambulance for the girl they had left in the alley. Nick was beginning to feel bad about that since neither of them had taken the time to check to see if she was still alive or not. He had a feeling she wasn't, but it still bugged him.

His hands were tense, beginning to ache as he held the wheel. The traffic was thick in some areas, loose in others. It wasn't an easy journey, but Nick managed the best he could. Speeding cases weren't his specialty, but he wasn't going to take this back to Warrick and say he wasn't good enough to keep up with the bad guy.

Up the road, two cop cars appeared out of nowhere, lights flashing. Nick felt an ease in his body that help was finally here. The Corolla's brake lights went on, car slamming to a halt. But the man quickly darted up another side street barely avoiding a trash truck. And Nick knew they were on a one way trip towards the freeway now.

"Go Nick. We can't let him get on the interstate."

"Alright, alright. Ya know, you're the cop. You should be driving."

"You're doing just fine. But don't let him go!" Sophia almost screamed as she watched other cars swerve and beep at them as they moved after the get away car.

The two cop cars whipped past him, speeding along faster. But they weren't quick enough to cut the man off from getting onto the off ramp. Nick cursed and forced more speed into the engine. And he could see more police sedans heading towards them from the other lane. They switched over into theirs as soon as the opportunity arose. He was sure the normal drivers on the highway weren't finding this at all amusing.

"We're going to cut him off! Get up there Nick. We have to help in the back."

But they didn't need to go too much further. The suspect stopped hard, turning the car sideways into several lanes painted on the pavement. Nick could see him, sitting and starring out the windshield. As soon as he stopped, Sophia was out and running towards the two stopped sedans a few yards ahead.

Nick couldn't bring himself to get out of the SUV. He could see the gun. The door opened and the man stepped out of the car, hands high. There were shouts from all the officers, horns beeping from interrupted traffic around them. It all became white noise as Nick too everything in.

The man brushed his blonde hair back with his free hand, gun waving around oblivious to the people surrounding him. Sunlight glinted off the steel as the man steadied the gun and brought it closer in. Nick could hear him perfectly.

"Do ya dare me! Huh? Dare me! Do it!"

His head blew apart from the impact of the bullet. The gun fell from his hand that had positioned it to his chin. Nick sat frozen, hands sweating on the steering wheel.

TBC…


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Thanks to my two reviewers on the last chapter. You'd think with so few reviews, I'd be able to get back to you guys. And sorry about the wait as well. Been a bad week, broken toe and all. Ah well. Let's get back at it. Hope this works for everyone. Just want to get things stacked so I can make the house come crumbling down later. As I said before, stick it out with me and I promise something fun later! Bye!

**Chapter 9:**

_**Let the fear of danger be a spur to prevent it; he that fears not, gives advantage to the danger.**_

_**Francis Quarles (1592 - 1644) **_

Silence was never true to its dictionary definition. Never was anything completely void of some sort of noise. There was always something there, whisking away the ghosts that devoured spoken words. But it sure could become quieter than all hell.

Nick breathed heavy. It filled the cab of his truck, pulsing in his ears along with his racing heart. His eyes were tight to follow the movement of the police officers rushing around the now very dead guy. More sirens were on the way, but it didn't matter anymore.

He managed to look away for a second, to look at the problem with his hands. Never before had they hurt like they were now. Of course that could because they were completely white, blood cut off by the tight muscles and tendons. Nick tried to flex them to release the wheel, but they only gripped tighter. A small noise escaped from the back of his throat.

'_Come on Stokes! Not the first dead guy you've ever seen. Get a grip_!' his mind screamed at him from the blackness behind his eyelids. Another voice, softer than the first, brought other words he refused to acknowledge.

The door opened at his side, startling him. Nick turned wide, brown eyes to look at Sophia. And he really wished he hadn't. There was concern, worry, and a dash of pity swarming. Emotions Nick could use a little break from.

"Hey, you okay? I called Sam and he's going to get a hold of the lab. Someone should be here shortly."

His mouth was dry. It felt like someone had jammed cotton balls into the back corners and gathered all his saliva before it had a chance. His tongue was heavy and rough as he tried to wet the roof of his mouth. It was a pointless endeavor.

"Yeah, great."

Sophia's eyebrows darted up to her hairline, "Want to get out of the SUV then? Could use you over by the car."

Nick turned his eyes away from the questioning look the blonde detective was sending him and looked back at his hands. They had taken an odd pink tone and it made his face crinkle up in confusion. Any pain or biting was gone, just a numbness now.

A hand appeared and slowly rested on his left hand. The long fingers carefully rubbed over the top of his fingers before working down over the knuckles, under to his nails. It was soothing and Nick could feel the release a little through the fog running up his arm.

The slender fingers pried his away, coming away with a jerk. But his hand never lost contact with the other one. His fingers remained bent, red like claws from a prehistoric bird. Nick was so busy watching the color return to the extremity that he didn't feel the process being repeated with his right hand.

"Better?"

The voice was closer to his ear than he was expecting. Nick threw his head up and suddenly noticed that the door was open wider and Sophia was standing close enough that he could feel the heat from her skin. And both his hands were being held by each of hers.

"Better Nick?" she repeated softly as she watched him sort things out in his head, different things running across his eyes.

Nick shook his head a little, closing his eyes for a second. When they opened, he felt a little more grounded and could certainly feel the pain from his hands. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's okay. Take your time. I'll be up there when you're ready," Sophia carefully set his hands into his lap before stepping away. She looked him over one more time before turning her back and leaving him alone in the SUV. It had worried her at the condition she had found the CSI in his truck, but wasn't going to make a scene out of it. But she also wasn't going to keep it quiet.

Taking a deep breath, Nick dropped his head downward, calming the nerves that were close to being shot. Bad pun intended. His heart rate slowed one thump at a time until he couldn't hear the rushing in his ears anymore. And his fingers were almost back to normal color. Plus the tingling was only just annoying.

He flexed them a little, wincing at the tightness in his knuckles. Nick flipped them over and looked at his palms. There were semi-moon pits, four on each. His fingernails weren't long, but enough to do a job when they needed to.

Coughing to clear a non-exist blockage, Nick could feel the blush coming strong. His face heated up and he shifted uncomfortably. Sophia had seen him panic, had to come and save him. And he was pretty sure she was going to share that little tidbit with someone else.

"Shit!" Nick hissed as his eyelids fell, eyelashes brushing across his cheeks for a second before opening back up. His head rolled a little to the right, mouth opening. Dropping his face, Nick rubbed a sore hand against his cheek before pushing himself into action.

His legs almost buckled out from under him, but he kept it steady. No way he was going to fall down to the ground in front of all these people. And Nick could already sense the news crews making their way like vultures to an antelope carcass.

He pulled in a deep breath through his nose, back straightening with the inhale. It helped to clear up his mind a little and Nick could see things clearer now. Wiggling his fingers, Nick opened the back door to his truck and pulled out his kit. The familiar weight in his hand was reassuring and he felt more confident once the door slammed back into place.

More officers had filled the area, an ambulance was wailing away in the distance though it was just a formality now. David would be needed a gurney for this instead.

Nick could still see the way the man's head had been thrown back from the impact of the bullet. The blood that flew through the air, spraying the area around him with little droplets of crimson. At least from his angle, the bullet went out the back of the head. So Nick wasn't saved the sight of pink brain being blow apart with white bone. He shook off the chill from knowing what steel felt pressed against his chin.

Nodding to a few officers on his way, Nick walked over to where Sophia was standing. Her arms were crossed across her chest, frown bending down behind her sunglasses. They didn't exchange any words, simply continued walking together.

Their feet stopped about a yard from the newest D.B. Blonde hair was stained pink and missing in a large portion of the head. Whatever the guy had used on himself was a lot more powerful than what he used on the girl back in the alley.

"Two weapons."

Sophia turned her head, "Huh?"

"There were two weapons," Nick walked a wide circle around the front of the car. He stopped and pulled out a pair of gloves to open the passenger door. Sweat was building on his forehead, running towards his eyebrows. Reaching down to place the kit on the ground, Nick popped it open. A black hat waited for him on the top of his supplies. He pulled it out and slapped it backwards on his head.

"Think about it. The gun he just used on himself, blew his head open. If he used the same gun on any of the girls, there would be larger wounds, even from more of a distance. Has to be two different ones."

Nick pulled the latch to release the door and pulled it open. The inside of the car smelled like stale French fries. From what he could see, there were wrappers and soda bottles strewn all over the vehicle's floors and seats. Something stained the upper half of the passenger bucket seat.

His brow furrowed downward for a second, smoothing in the next. Nick lowered himself down into a crouch and reached a hand in slowly, waiting for something to jump out to bite him. Nothing moved except for the pieces of trash he himself moved. It reminded him a little of Warrick's truck, minus the bad smells.

The driver's side door opened bringing along with it another fresh burst of air. Sophia shifted herself so she was as far from the body as she could be. "Need a hand?"

"Nah, I'm good here. You go do whatever it is that ya cops do at a crime scene. Impress me," Nick looked up only to smirk.

"Sure, sure CSI boy," Sophia laughed a little, but quickly left the man to do his work. She lowered her bulk onto her heels and looked down at the body at her feet.

Looking from head to toe and back, Sophia looked up at the people milling around her. Her eyes looked up from her eyelashes, sighing as she noticed no coroner in sight. Only more officers and people who just loved to see a little gore in the morning.

Thinking, or not, she pulled on a pair of her own gloves and went pocket hunting. The first closest to her, the left front pocket, turned up to only contain a crinkled receipt that looked as if it had been washed a few too many times. It was the other that turned up the wallet.

Sophia pulled it out carefully and flipped it open. The main flap proved to hold only four dollar bills. Nothing more, but one plastic credit card and a driver's license, "Seems that we have one Caleb Johnson. Age twenty eight."

Nick looked up at the detective and nodded, "Alright, let me check the box." He reached over with his right hand and turned the knob for the glove box opened. It fell outward with an odd thud. Nick was assaulted by a new smell that he really didn't need to know what caused it.

"Seems to be a few unpaid parking tickets, a couple menus for take-out, a napkin, and a registration form," Nick flipped through the papers he managed to pull out, "And they all contain the same name. Dude's car."

"So, he uses his own vehicle as the get away. Might be able to figure out where he came from," Sophia shrugged as she lowered the wallet to the ground.

Nick simply nodded and went back to digging around in the compost heap. Something greasy had gotten over the lip of one of his gloves. He could feel it running down the palm of his hand. But Nick really didn't want to see what it was quite yet for fear of contaminating the scene with his previous meal.

Some voices and footsteps for closer to the car. Nick didn't bother looking up at David or Warrick as they talked over things with Sophia. He finally felt something solid. But it was buried under something he couldn't quite describe.

"Hey bro, what ya got?" Warrick squatted down by the Texan once he got the rundown from the female detective. He was slightly worried about what he had heard and the significant look Sophia had given Nick during the little retelling.

"Not too much. But I think a second gun is in play. You done over at the bunker?"

"Grissom and Catherine are finishing it up. Greg and Sara were being sent to that alley way you guys took off from. I was sent here to help ya."

"Well, seeing the fact this didn't happen all that long ago, not a whole lot done yet. I haven't taken any photos of anything. Wanna do that?"

"Sure, know me bro. I'm better with a lens then ya are. Shake too damn much," Warrick slapped Nick on the back as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Uh huh. That's why Ecklie gave me the new camera model for my kit. Sure thing 'Rick."

"Man just knew you needed all the help you could get for taking a couple of photos. Not like anything is moving either."

"Just jealous of the skills," Nick grunted as he finally winded a finger around the object he was trying to obtain, "You can cry in your pillow later tonight about it."

"Yeah, I'll give ya something to cry over," Warrick muttered as he got ready to document the scene visually.

Nick pulled his body back, item firmly held in his hand. He shook his head a little, "Now, how in the hell would the second gun get buried so damn quickly like that?"

"You got it?"

"Yeah, but was some work. Damn car is full of crap just like yours is. It was wedged in and covered. Don't see when the guy would have a chance to hide it that well on that little drive we just took."

"And I suppose you drove like little Ms. Daisy. Bet Sophia was grinding her teeth.'

Clicks from the camera filled the void as Nick turned the gun around in his hands. It didn't feel warm from any use, but he wouldn't dispel it just for that reason. He held it up towards his nose and pulled in a big whiff. The smell of gunpowder was strong.

"Gonna bag this. We should have the car towed in. Get it out of here before we lose anything."

Warrick nodded, one eye scrunched, other pressed to the camera, "Just get some photos first man. Don't want anything to be thrown out on this one."

"There ya go telling me what to do again," Nick fought hard to keep a straight face and keep his voice tight from any emotion.

It worked. Warrick's head snapped up, eyes wide at the comment. Green eyes suddenly flashed dangerously once it was figured out what had just happened. And Nick had to grin from ear to ear.

"You are one dead Texan, I hope you know."

"Just threatened me in front of a hell of a lot of witnesses. Gonna have a hard time getting anyone to believe it wasn't premeditated."

"Shut up and get to work."

Nick saluted the other man, "Yes sir."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"Girl is right this way," the officer waved the two CSI's through the alley. Sara walked a little in front of Greg, but neither took notice of this to care.

"Called in from Sophia?" Sara asked as they found the victim.

The uniform nodded as he took a few steps back out of the way, "Uh huh. Detective Curtis called it in while in pursuit of the suspect."

"Thanks, we'll get it from here," Greg nodded as he walked over to where Sara had crouched down to look over the girl, "Seems to fit the others."

"Yeah, gun shot to the lower back and neck region."

Sara made her comment as she reached into one of the pockets on her vest for her newest pair of latex gloves. She was really going to need some lotion once they got back to the lab. But she quickly shook her head free from the worry over her dry hands. There was work to do.

The victim looked tall, was slender. Her hair was dark, almost a complete shade of black. Sara watched as the flashes reflected back at her from the shiny tresses. Another young life cut short from something that they would figure out.

"When's David going to get here?" Greg asked as he walked the area around the body. He was lucky and found one of the shells from the gun. Just couldn't seem to find the second.

"Dunno. Had to go to the other scene first. Depends on what sort of shape the suspect is in. Could be awhile. Why?"

"Just getting tired. Been a long shift."

"Yeah and it's just going to keep getting longer unless we do our jobs here. So, don't slack."

Greg grinned and bobbed his head, "No problem with that."

He bent down and scooped up the second shell, hidden by a trash can. There was no top and the smell of waste decomposition was strong against his nostrils. His nose crinkled up, creasing between his eyes. A shift in his stomach was enough to get him to move away as quickly, and safely, as possible.

"Found the shells. Have to get them back to Bobby, see that they match the gun the suspect used on himself."

Sara nodded as she reached down to look at the girl's left hand, "Looks like she fought back."

"Huh?" Greg shifted closer to Sara, looking down at the girl's fingernails.

"Loose skin particles," Sara pointed before reaching for her wooden scrapper and baggy for the evidence, "Mia will confirm it."

"So, she fought back. That means what? She was still shot. Anyone would fight back when someone comes up to them with gun."

"Yeah, but why fight so much when the gun is waving around in the air."

Greg frowned at the odd comment, "Let's see…a gun versus a fingernail. Wouldn't be much of a fight. What's the point?"

"Point is, the gun wasn't out right away. She had a chance and she took it. This might not be the only crime scene. I think this started somewhere else and ended up here. This is where the gun was brought out and into play."

"Really?"

The senior CSI lifted her head and shook it, hair flying out around her, "It's possible Greg. You really must need a nap if this is going right over your head."

"Ha ha. Just don't get in my way," Greg stood with a flourish, "I'm going to be the one to break and make this case. Wait and see."

"I only have one life time to live," Sara smiled as she listened to Greg stomp away from her.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Vega wedged his sedan between two other police vehicles, lights spinning the lights all around the dirty alley. He sat for a second, took a deep breath, then launched his body from the car. The area was taped off already. It was the honey for the bees. People were milling around everywhere. He had to push a couple teenagers out of the way to get through. A woman with blonde hair swore at him when he asked her to step back from the tape. She wasn't happy one bit.

He was late to the scene, but there was a traffic accident across the Strip, a five car pile up. It had taken too long to get everyone's statements and registrations from them. But finally he was able to hand things off and leave for this scene. Seemed to be his fate with this case, always late. And an hour was enough to cause problems.

The coroner wagon was already there and loaded already from the look of things with something. A body was resting in a black bag on top of a steel gurney locked into place on the left side. Two officers were standing by the vehicle to make sure everyone stayed away that was supposed to. He nodded to himself in approval.

When he finally arrived to the stop the two CSI's were busy with, Sam was short getting to see the body and the state the victim was in. He was going to have to wait to hear about it later from someone. Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes at his luck.

"How's it going?" he asked out into the open air.

David merely nodded at him as he pushed the second gurney away. Nothing from the young man. And Greg seemed to be avoiding him, well, everyone in general as he stalked the area. Sara stood, hands slapping her pants.

"Not too much. We have the same killing method, this one has ID on her."

The detective nodded, "Good. I can have her family brought in with the other."

"You got in touch with them?"

"Yeah, just before this all broke out. I have to get back and meet with them soon. Brass is going to speak with them, impartial party and all. But I want to be around. You guys want me to stick it out?"

"Nah. We got it. Let ya know if anything comes up. But I think we're pretty much done here. Just a little more to do. Any word from the highway scene?"

"Talked with Curtis. She didn't say much other than your guys was having the car towed in. And the body is going in with the one found here. Doc's going to be busy. Hell, busier."

"Alright. I just want to figure out what is going on. Though, I really hope we are done with these murders. The suspect is dead, might stop."

Sam turned, eyes skyward, "Maybe."

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Hello all! Back a little sooner than seemed to be the norm. Hope this is worth the wait and read. Thanks for sticking around and reading. And double thanks to my reviewers. Thanks for the good wishes on the toe. It's getting better (slowly, but surely)! Alright, enough from me. Enjoy!

**Chapter 10:**

_**"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."  
--- Frank Herbert, Dune - Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear**_

"These bullets don't match the one the suspect used on himself."

"Figured as much Bobby," Nick mumbled as he watched the ballistics expert study the remains of the bullets from the two scenes.

"Have to look for another gun."

Bobby Dawson walked away from his microscope towards the table where he had the bullets and cartridges set out for examination. He had pulled out the others found from the other two scenes from earlier to see if he could get matches that way. Not too much so far.

"We found another gun," Nick looked over at Warrick with confusion darkening his brow.

Warrick nodded in agreement, "Yeah, Nicky here pulled another from the car."

"Ya may 'ave pulled another gun from the car, but it doesn't match anything pulled for this case. Gun's a nothing."

"It's a gun man. Never a nothing," Nick shifted his weight, leaning his hip against the steel counter against the wall.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't used for anything you can prove at this point. But your bullets from the other scenes have a few things in common."

Warrick's annoyed look dimmed a little at the new comment, "And those would be?"

"Well, they're all common bullets for handguns. The one Mr. Johnson used on himself was a hallow point, designed for high expansion on impact. From what I can tell of what remains, you're looking at Powerbelt .45 calibers, 195 grain," Bobby picked up the labeled gun, "Matches this weapon found covered in the vic's blood. The others, all types of roundnose lead. Meant for good penetration, but little expansion. But, no luck on finding a weapon to match a suspect. The other gun can't use those bullets."

Bobby picked up one of the other weapons on the table, "I used this in my match tests for impact. It's a 9 mm using one type of the bullets pulled…from the first scene, single girl. Your other gun, caliber 357 Magnum."

"So we're looking for more than one gun. Great," Warrick threw his hands in the air. His left foot stomped at the ground in his frustration.

"I'll keep working on it. Let ya guys know if I find anything new," Bobby looked apologetic, but he couldn't make a lie out of this to please the two CSI's.

"Sure thing, 'daws."

Neither man said a word as they left the ballistic lab into the main hallway of the crime lab. Nick rubbed at his burning eyes. A yawn had been trying to escape for about an hour. He was sure it looked funny when he pulled a face to ward it off.

The hallway was busy. People were running too and fro, fixing the crimes happening all around the city. Sometimes Nick would forget that other crimes would go on when the graveyard shift was hard to work on one of their own.

"Wanna go talk to Hodges," Warrick asked as they moved closer to the trace lab.

Nick winced, "Do we have to?"

"Nah, really don't have the energy to deal with him and his crap today. Man gives me a headache through the damn glass. But I could really use something to drink."

With a nod from Nick, they headed off to the break room. The smell of stale coffee hit their noses. Two voices from within proved that they wouldn't be alone to bask in the comfort of the two couches within the room.

"Hey guys," Sara nodded at them as they walked in the break room, "How's it going?"

"Just perfect. You two?"

Greg shrugged, but didn't look up from the magazine he was leafing through. Nick walked over and collapsed onto the couch next to the younger man. Now that he was off them, the Texan finally realized how bad his feet were aching.

Sara ran a hand through her dark hair, "We're just waiting to hear from Grissom. He said to wait for him in here."

"Break in the case?"

"Not as far as I understand. But Catherine was going with Sam to speak with the two families we were able to locate."

Closing his eyes, Nick sank into the cushions of the couch. A slight throbbing had taken up residence behind his temples. It was distracting his attention from the noises around him in the room. He could sense the others, but didn't have the energy to place them and their activities.

"Glad to be out of that room," Warrick sighed as he took a seat on the other couch with a cup of coffee now held in his hand. Not quite as tired as Nick, but he was feeling the strain of a long day, long shift. "Just never ready to take on a grieving family after a long shift."

"Just have to know how to talk to people," Nick mumbled through slack lips.

"Ah yes, I always forget that. Just should have you, Mr. Sensitivity, do all the interviews and all would be good in the world."

Nick lifted his right shoulder only in his shrug, showing his thought on that comment. He knew everyone watched his empathy. Grissom had made comments in the past about it, warned him about it. Hell, he himself had warned Sara about it with some cases. But in the end, he was the one labeled the "people's helper" with all its curses. Now he didn't have any ambition to argue with Warrick about it.

They all fell quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Warrick yawned, lips stretched tightly over white teeth. His eyes watered a little forcing him to blink them rapidly to clear them. No one was looking at him, but he had an image to keep up. And yawning tears weren't going to be the death of him.

Several minutes, long moments of time, clicked away on the clock on the wall. Sara kept glancing at it, impatient on having to sit in that room. None of the other occupants seemed concerned with how long their colleagues were taking. In fact, she was sure Nick had just fallen asleep.

After an eternity, two human forms walked slowly into the break room, observing the remains of the team. Catherine smiled and walked with light footsteps over to one of the waiting chairs. She could feel Sara watching her, but knew the boys hadn't even realized she walked in. Turning to face Grissom, she could see the man wasn't about to do the same thing.

"Alright, everyone, to the table," Grissom declared in a tight voice.

Greg quickly threw down his magazine onto the side table by the couch and bounded his way over to the opposite side of the long table. He spared a small grin to Catherine before looking down at his hands. Sara sat next to him, but managed to keep her eyes up.

Coming back from his drift, Warrick opened eyes he hadn't realized closed. The light helped spur on the headache pounding around his brain cells. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet once he figured out what he was supposed to be doing. No one said a word, just watched him shuffle to his feet. But his way was blocked by a slumbering Texan.

"Hey Nicky," Warrick kicked out his left foot slightly, tapping Nick on the side of his leg, "Wake up, bro."

Nick's body jerked slightly at the touch, his eyes fluttered open slowly. In the short nap time he had taken, a crick had worked its way into his neck. A groan slipped past his lips as he pushed himself up straighter. Warrick's hand dropped into his sight and he took it with a nod of thanks.

The lead CSI watched the two men with no emotion showing on his face. He knew what they were all dealing with. And Grissom also knew what Nick had seen on the stretch of highway. When he had gone to the station to pick Catherine up and talk with Brass, he had learned about what had happened in the SUV between Nick and Sophia. But now was not the time to bring it up.

Once everyone was seated, eyes blurry, Grissom cleared his throat, "Alright. We have the bunker case solved and finished. I want everyone to focus on this serial."

"What'd you guys find out from the families?" Sara asked looking directly at Catherine.

Catherine sighed and rubbed her hands together before laying them flat on the shiny table surface. She could still see the grieving mothers; hear their cries of pain and loss. As a mother herself, in two ways actually, it had hit hard and deep. But this was part of the job and she would have to tell them.

"Both sets of parents showed up. Mr. and Mrs. Boettcher arrived first. Their daughter was living on her own, across town so they hadn't realized anything had happened to her until we called them in. She works in the Mirage as a waitress. No one at work reported a thing, didn't think anything of it. Sam talked with her boss. She had a good record and everyone let it slide, thinking she was sick."

No one said a word. They all absorbed the information, not seeing anything helpful. Nick's head bobbed a little with exhaustion, but he managed to keep it together. His ears perked a little as Catherine kept up the one sided conversation.

"Second girl, one in the alley way. Samantha Wilson, age 25. ULV student, master's program according to her mother."

"They know why she was in that alley?" Greg asked quietly.

"No. They never lived in those parts or knew of a friend she had around there. But like the first victim, not living at home, doesn't call everyday so they didn't think anything was wrong. And I talked with Mia on my way down here, the samples you guys took from her nails, matches our dead suspect. Only his DNA found on her."

Nick looked up, eyes suddenly sharp, "And the suspect?"

"Sophia is still looking into it," Catherine couldn't look the Texan in those hard brown eyes for long, "He has a clean record, no hits on anything. And with such a common last name, might be a bit before locating family."

Whatever wind was left in their sails, was now completely gone. It was going no where fast. Grissom could see his team slump downward, losing any hope of getting this thing solved quickly. He knew what he had to do.

"Alright. We're not thinking with clear heads anymore. I want everyone gone, at home, for a minimum of twelve hours. Sleep, eat. When you get back, then we'll look at this all again, new perspective."

Only Sara seemed ready to fight the suggestion. Everyone else looked extremely relieved at the idea. Nick was the first on his feet, "Alright. See you all next shift."

He didn't wait for anyone else, feet moving him into the hallway quicker than he thought possible. His entire being yearned for the cool sheets of his bed. Nick kept his head down and moved along through the throngs of people in the hallway. He was forced to close his eyes when he pushed open the lab doors and stepped out into the sunlight.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

_Getting told to go home and take a nap during a case like the one we had should have been something I protested. Hell, I'd done it in the past. Almost got into it with Catherine once about being pulled off a high profile case._

_But I just got up and left. Didn't say much, just walked out. And it was one of those autopilot things. Truck just knew the roads to take, which turns I needed. Cause I sure as hell wasn't paying much attention to what I was doing._

_Being a CSI, you learn the different levels of tired. Sure, I thought I knew about insomnia and exhaustion from college. Those nights of partying, studying, and just being an ass. Not too much sleep during most of those years. But this was all new._

_Working graveyard had taken a little getting used to. Sleeping with the sun out wasn't something encouraged by my father. There was too much work to do to sleep the day away. And if my brother or I were caught doing it, unless we were ill, then man, did we hear it. Mom always stood up for the girls, but not us. We were boys and under our father's rules more so._

_But, like everything that came with moving to Las Vegas, I adapted, got used to the new schedule. In fact, it seemed to be the best thing at first. The nights were cooler, smoother. And the people I started to work with at the crime lab weren't bad people to work with. In fact, now they are some of the best people I know._

_I got blackout curtains, heavy shades. Even got a fan in the room to help circulate the warmer air. Being awake at night was nothing after a few weeks. Took to it like a fish._

_Then came the promotions, the advancements. Suddenly, there were doubles, triples. Staying awake for more than twenty four hours, keeping the game face on for all of it. That's when I learned the new levels of being tired._

_Insomnia wasn't something you could call it. Hell, when I was allowed to sleep, I took it. Didn't matter anymore whether it was the sun or the moon in the sky. Sleep wasn't something I used to take for granted._

_Then the nightmares had begun. But I don't have to write those down in this notebook. I live them almost every time I shut my eyes now. Some are new, some are old. Old monsters coming to play with new haunts. Yeah, it's messed up, but what the hell can I do._

_I take the damn pills, listen to the doctors the best I can, but it really doesn't make a difference. I learned a long time ago that sometimes you just had to suck it up and take whatever got thrown at you. And now, it's a struggle, yes, but I'm doing it. On some level of my own terms._

_So, when Grissom told me to go home, drop the case that I had seen a part of with my own eyes, I didn't fight. I went home. I slept. Not well, but I slept._

_!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+_

It was always a phone that seemed to wake him up before his alarm clock. Nick slowly opened his eyes, caked with sleep. His slight stubble scratched at the pillow top, sounding loud in his ears. At first, he couldn't figure out what woke him up.

The noise had stopped. It was quiet in his room. The darkness was soothing for his sore eyes, but he wanted to see what woke him. Nick fumbled for the lamp next to his bed. It lit quickly with a flip of the tiny knob up by the bulb.

Nothing was in his room. Nick's face crinkled up in confusion. Something had woken him up. He had heard something. It took a couple of seconds for his brain to sort through the fog and make the connection to the phone.

He groped around the top of the bedside table looking for the phone he had placed there. But found nothing. Nick lifted his head, resting his upper body weight on his right elbow as he looked down at the table with eyes only half open.

'_Well, where I thought I left the damn thing_.'

Nick yawned, his head slammed back down onto the softness of his pillow. It moved to cradle his head. But the damn light was still on. Nick turned his head away from it, but could still see a faint yellow tint through his eyelids from the offender. Groaning, he moved his body so he could turn it off.

The ringing started up again. It was just a boring ringtone. Not one of those custom ones. Just one he picked from the tiny selection the phone provider offered him. It was one of the least annoying ones he could find. And it was ringing from his pants.

Nick shook his head, trying to figure out why his phone was ringing from his pants when he was sure he had placed it on the table by his head. He pushed his form upright, swaying a little as the room spun. Shaking his head, he tried to shake the remains of sleep from his brain. It worked a little.

He walked over to where he had thrown the jeans before he collapsed into bed. The phone had stopped again. Nick wasn't moving fast enough to catch it as the person remained on the other line. A pop sounded from his back as he bent over to grab at the denim.

Searching the pockets, he found the phone in the front left one. He looked at the tiny screen in the front. Two missed calls. So he hadn't been deep enough asleep to miss more. Nick moved his fingers to flip it open, to see who had called him. He almost dropped the phone when it started to ring again.

Fumbling, Nick managed to get it open and up to his ear, "H'llo?"

"Nick? Hey, it's Sophia. I need you to meet up with Warrick and me here at the station."

Nick frowned and looked over at the clock on his dresser. He had only been off nine of the required twelve hours signed out by Grissom. "I can't. Grissom sent us home for twelve hours."

"Yeah, well, he needs to listen to his own rules then. He's been in the lab for about two hours now. Catherine not far behind. I just got off the phone with Warrick before I called you. You two are coming with me."

"Where to?"

"High Desert State Prison."

His jaw dropped a little, "Wha'? Why there?"

"Well, seems Mia was on a roll tonight. She was able to find something with our suspect. And you'll never believe what. So I need you to get dressed and move it."

"What won't I believe?"

"Who his brother is. Now move," Sophia hung the phone up before Nick could even blink.

He stood, looking down at the phone in his hand. Nick didn't even know what to think about that last comment. Looking around the room, he tried to figure out why they were being called in already. Sleep still clouded his head. And he really wished he could stay in bed.

TBC…


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **So, some people thought they knew who the brother would be…alright, let us see how correct you were! Oh, and we embark on another joint course with the season as we knew it. Getting, oh so close to getting there. Thanks for reading! See ya around.

**Chapter 11:**

"_**The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there." **_

_**Leslie Poles Hartley **_

The drive up US-95 wasn't the most eventful thing that had happened to Nick Stokes, but it did seem like the new longest. He sat in the passenger seat of the CSI truck, chin resting on the palm of his right hand. His eyes watched lazily the passing desert and houses.

Warrick held the truck steady, following after the police sedan in front of them. His right hand was lose and relaxed over the top of the wheel. Left arm was resting by the elbow on the ridge by the driver's window. The entire posture of the taller CSI showed a cool, collected exterior.

Mile after mile passed, nothing changing. Not a word was spoken. Neither man had talked with the other except for the tired, confused hello's back at the station in Vegas. But it was also a silence that neither felt like filling. They were comfortable enough to leave it alone.

The city of Indian Springs soon came upon them. Nick barely blinked an eye at the change in the landscape. His weight shifted with the truck as Warrick took a clean left onto the new road. The prison was enough to get him to sit up more in his seat and attempt to look professional.

"So, you know why we had to drive out here for this?" Warrick's voice cut through the encased space.

Nick managed to keep his jump small, unnoticeable, with some help of the seatbelt, "Nah. Sophia just said something about the guy's brother being in here. Nothing more."

"Hmm, sounds like one of our friendly detectives from Vegas, that's for sure."

The prison itself was impressive when they pulled into the black top lot. Sophia pulled her sedan into a slot, perfectly between the solid yellow lines. The SUV took the spot to her left.

"You boys ready to go? We are expected," Sophia grinned as she walked away from the confused CSI's.

Warrick shot a look over to Nick, shrugging his broad shoulders high. With an answering shrug, the two men walked quickly after the blonde detective. Nick couldn't help, but to turn his eyes upward as they walked upon the high fences and towers surrounding the tiny world of brick and stone. Deep inside his body, something shuddered and hid its face.

High Desert State prison was officially the largest institution in the Corrections Department. It's span spread over an easy 1.5 million square feet. Only the best technology was used, for protection of the officers inside, and full control over the 1,816 inmates at any given time. It was an impressive castle of gray and steel against the blue Nevada sky.

Approaching the main entrance, Sophia moved up quickly to speak with the guards standing ready. Credentials were checked, fire arms handed over. Nick stood stiffly for the body search, trying to focus on something other than the searching hands covering his arms and legs.

They were nodded through only to be cut off by a large man with balding, blonde hair, "You would be from Vegas?"

"We are. I'm Detective Curtis," Sophia glanced over towards the men standing by her side, "Stokes and Brown from the crime lab."

"Huh, really think we need scientists getting up in this mess? Should'a just left 'em behind. Might be too much for their…thin blood," the man smiled, yellow teeth under a thick moustache.

"I'll vouch for them. They'll be leading the questioning anyways. And you would be?"

The man threw out a large hand, "I'd be Dave Nesser, warden of this mess. I'll be taken y'all inside. And boys, I'd recommend you'd watch out for your asses inside. Pretty things such as you'selves might make the prisoners a bit happy."

Warrick's face went stone cold, "We'll be fine. Let's just get this over with."

"Very well. If you'd be so kind as to follow me in. You got about an hour left before visiting hours are over. But I thought I'd take you straight in, seeing as this seems to be a big deal and all. Having the mayor calling in a favor and everything. Gotta admit, I'm impressed. Never thought of the guy as something important."

The trio walked in a slow pace after the bear of a man. Nick snuck glances around them, afraid to risk meeting any inmate's eyes. None were out in the fields surrounding the walls, but he wasn't about to take any chances. He was too used to seeing the suspects before they reached this stage and he didn't know how to deal with people at this level. And it was another thing that made him wonder what the hell he was doing there in the first place.

Nesser seemed to like the sound of his own voice and obviously felt the need to share the history of the six year old prison, "We handle multi-classification inmates in this facility and custody levels of min to max. Even got us segregation in this place. There's seven different housing units, though it's a tad difficult to make that out from this angle. All ya see is wall after all. Each can hold up to 332 Joes at one time. We're gonna head to Unit 6B for your fella."

A large steel door, guarded by two men was their way into the mass of a structure. Warrick's fingers twitched a little as the pressure from the inside caused a slight hissing noise. It was deadly quiet on the inside. But there were plenty of lights to make up for the lack of noise.

"Each area can vary on free inmate movement or whether we keep them locked up. Depends on how they act, how good they can keep themselves. Some trouble last week, but nothing a little alone time can't fix. We'll have to head past the cafeteria in this unit to get to our building. Might get a touch loud around those parts. The boys like their grub."

Nick could swear their footsteps were too loud, echoing off the walls like pings of radar. They took several turns and a couple of curves. He would never find his way out on his own. And they weren't even in the prisoner areas yet. This was all employee areas and waiting areas for guests.

It was around the next right that he finally felt like he was in a prison. There were bars, signs, and guns. And the guards watched them closely as they moved with the warden. Nick felt like he was the only one from the group that was edgy being there.

"Up ahead, we got the first of the six eating halls along with the prisoner chapel," Nesser pointed down another hallway blocked off by more bars, "Down that way, the Inmate Store, Laundry, and hallways to two of the other buildings. Education and the law library are in Unit 4. But we're heading this way."

Nesser halted at the thick bars and removed the card hanging from around his neck. It slid easily through the reader, causing the red light to turn green. The bar door moved slowly to the left, opening the way further down the drab hallway.

The hairs on Nick's neck stood up and sweat gathered on his upper lip. His tongue slid out, nervously, to wet his dry lips. He was nervous to continue, but more afraid to let anyone see it. It was almost as bad as walking down into that bunker.

"We let the boys volunteer themselves so they can move through this place faster. Move from one area to another. Get better benefits. Where we're going, some of the naughtier boys. Guarantee ya, you'll never want to meet any of them in a back alley," Nesser laughed as he walked heavily down the hallway, towards more and more bars.

None of the three said a word at what the man leading had just said. Sophia kept her lips tight over her teeth, hands hanging at her hips. She had been in this prison before, but never this deep into the bowels of it. The noises were beginning to reach them from the inmates. It sounded like the chatter of a school yard. But these students had played with guns and knives before.

Warrick couldn't help, but to move further ahead as they moved along. For some reason that he couldn't describe, he felt he had to be in the front of their little trio, in case anything were to happen. It was unlikely, but he wasn't taking any chances, especially with Nick.

Another set of bar doors blocked the way, but they were through them quick enough. But Nick had to endure another body search. Procedures and all. The smile on the warden's face wasn't pleasant at the comment and Nick held in the shutters at the hands running up the insides of his thighs.

"Alright. We're about to walk into unit six. Keep yourselves in the middle of the hallway. The boys are in their cages, but might feel the need to reach out and touch someone. And I really don't want to have to drag out the tasers today," Nesser turned to walk away, but quickly turned back, "And don't talk to any of 'em. Might earn you'self an unwanted boyfriend."

The man's gate was faster now, more determined now that they were in the next. Nick could see over his shoulder the bars that began the double rows of cells. The hallway wasn't any wider in this section than the others. And the cafeteria they just passed was nothing more than a large room filled with large, burly men and no closed door.

Sophia reached back without thinking about it and took Nick's left hand in hers. She didn't know if it was to comfort her or him more, but it seemed to work for the two of them.

Some of the inmates were standing, leaning on the bars of their cells. Their eyes followed the small group. Nick tried to keep his own eyes on the ground, but got pulled into looking up. His face flushed at the gestures and faces some of the men pulled as he glanced over their faces.

They seemed to walk forever, between the leers and catcalls from various criminals. And, as fate would play it, Nick received the most attention. Comments were tossed at him about his finely shaped shoulders, grab-easy hair, and tight ass. Warrick had shifted closer to him as they proceeded, but it didn't block any of the comments. And the hand in his tightened with each step.

Finally, the warden stopped and faced a cell to the right. His face was tight as he looking in upon the man being kept inside. "You got some people that want to talk with ya."

Quiet, hesitation, "And if I don't wanna talk with them?"

"Well, you ain't got the choice in the matter. You're going to talk with them about what they want, answer all their damn questions and the like…"

Nick lost track of what the warden was saying, lecturing to the prisoner on the inside of the bar wall. His brain was too lost trying to connect on how he knew that voice. Something about it made his skin crawl. He was so lost in thought he missed the hand shooting out to his left, grabbing his t-shirt with long fingers.

Not paying attention to his surroundings, Nick was easily pulled off balance and lost his footing. He lost all contact with his two friends in this place. It caused him to fall in the direction of the clinging hand. And it didn't fail in grabbing more of the Texan and pulling him in close to the bars.

"Well, well. I do believe you and I know each other." Warm breath racked across his ear from the awkward angle the new hand was holding his head against the steel. The other hand wrapped around his throat, holding him tightly in place.

"Hey!" Warrick yelled, reaching for a gun that was no longer there, "Let him go!"

The same gray streaked brown hair fell off the pale forehead, grin parting the tight lips of Brian DuBois. Man still looked like he was missing a few too many nights of sleep. But now it might have been more warranted.

"DuBois," Nesser stepped up close to where Nick was being pinned, arm tightening around his throat, "I'd recommend you let go of that man, now! Unless you want to spend some quality time with you'self for the next two weeks."

DuBois quickly released Nick, hands held high in the air as he back away into his cell, "No harm, no foul. Just saying hi to one of the men who put me in this damn place. Hard to see a familiar face when you're doing time."

Warrick didn't let Nick collect himself before grabbing his upper arms with both his hands, eyes darting around the sweaty face. The other man was breathing heavy, quickly, but looked to be unharmed. Green eyes flashed at the grin being sent their way.

"I'm…okay, man," Nick coughed out as he rubbed at an imaginary hurt in his throat. The inmate's grip had scared him, hadn't harmed him. He was really okay for once. But it didn't stop the taller man or blonde detective from hanging on him.

"What you think you're doing?" Nesser barked now that DuBois was settled away, "I told you to stay away from the bars."

Sophia didn't care that she was smaller than the warden. She got herself right up in his face, "Let's just get the guy out of the cell and into a room. Now."

With a huff, Nesser moved back to the original cell. He pulled a radio out from his belt and barked some letters and numbers into the set. There was a buzz and a grating noise as the cell was opened. Nesser waved the man inside to come out into the hallway.

"Don't do anything stupid. Or you'll be shit out of luck along with your buddy. Just move this way, hands out in front of ya where I can see 'em."

The tan was gone, almost an orange tint now. Hair was still blonde, but the style was lost with the growth it had taken in the prison. But the bulk was still very much present.

"Well, if it isn't the asshole CSI's that got me locked up in this shit hole. Sure you wanna be locked up in a small room with me?" Charlie Johnson smiled big, white teeth over Sophia's shoulder to the two men.

He held still as the cuffs were locked into place. Nesser grabbed one of his arms and began to yank him further down the hallway, towards two more guards that were waiting in position. They quickly took possession of Johnson so the warden could turn to look back over the three following him.

"Gonna have to do a check on him first. Make sure he's clean. You three will wait out there until we let you in."

Sophia didn't bother to say a word, just moved past the man towards the door another guard was waiting at. Walking quickly, Nick moved to follow, but not before he saw the smirk the warden shot him. He wasn't feeling that well anymore on this trip. And the heavy hand of Warrick's on his shoulder wasn't as helpful as he had hoped it would be.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The room was similar to the ones they had back in Vegas, in the station. It was large, with the double sided mirror to the left of the door. A single wooden table sat in the middle, plain white chairs surrounding it. But the addition of two large, armed guards was new. As were the chains.

Charlie Johnson sat on the far side of the table, one guard standing over his right shoulder. He had an easy grin on his lips, hands resting easy on his thighs. His eyes took in the two CSI's sitting on the other side of the table from him. These were two people he had dealt with before and they didn't scare him.

"So, what brings you two on up here to see me? Get lost somewhere and needed someone to blame for your bad shit?"

Nick couldn't bring himself to say a word in response to the man. He was still trying to get all his thoughts in order from realizing this was the brother. It made sense in so many sick ways. But he wasn't ready to open this conversation.

"What? You two suddenly forget how to talk? Seems to me, the last time you fuckers were in my house, you both had plenty of shit to say. Now, nothing. Always knew you were losers."

"You and Brian have cells by each other. Still friends?" Warrick growled out at the insults being thrown at them.

Laughing, Charlie shook his head, "Nah. Dude lost it once we got in here. Guy was stupid and weak on the outside. In here, he went crazy. Got mean. Woulda been better like this out there."

"Yeah," Warrick leaned back in his chair, "You two would have been a whole lot better out there like that. What, you think more people would have been killed then?"

"Oh, maybe not a whole lot more people, just maybe one," Charlie smirked as he shifted his gaze onto Nick by the end of him comment.

Nick couldn't tear his eyes from the criminal ones. A chill filled his senses, but he held it in nicely. It was bad enough the man across the table had seen him weak before. Never again.

"What Tex? Cat got your tongue?"

"Your brother's dead."

The tone was flat. No emotion was behind the words or the lips that said them. Nick was almost surprised by his ability to do that, but he kept his glare steady.

It was enough to wipe Johnson's face clean, "What!"

"Oh yeah. Your little brother put a gun to his chin and pulled the trigger out on the pavement."

Warrick slapped Nick in the hip, shooting him a sharp look. He was shocked by the sudden change in his friend. The past between these two men was nothing new to him, but he never thought Nick could ever get so cruel. It wasn't something he ever wanted to see directed at back at himself.

"When?" Johnson's voice was quieter, almost childlike now.

"Yesterday. His body is back in the city morgue," Warrick entered his voice into the room, "And we would like to know if you knew anything about what he's been up to."

Shifting in his seat, the criminal caused the chains around his wrists and ankles to clank loudly. First he had lost his son and wife, now his brother. He was human and it stung to hear the news. And hatred caused his vision to turn red.

"What he's been up to! I haven't seen him since you assholes threw me in this joint. Why don't you tell me what he's been up to?"

"He was killing women. Gun shot wounds to the back of the neck and lower back region. He was caught with his last victim before he took his own life after a case," Warrick stated.

"And you think he came to me and told me all about it? Well, sorry to say boys, I know nothing about what he has been up to. Caleb always lived in his own little world. I never knew what he was thinking or doing. Hell, I was never home to worry about the little shit. I had my own shit to deal with."

Nick drew in a deep breath, "You know of any guns he might own?"

"As far as I knew, he was terrified of the damn things. I guess he got over that quick enough. Look, I don't know anything about what Caleb's been doing. You're wasting my time and my eyesight by having to look at you two assholes. You best be on your way."

"Think really hard Charlie. Is there anything you might be able to tell us? Even the smallest thing?" Nick asked again, connecting his sight with the other man's.

Johnson shifted his gaze away, then back again. It finally settled on a brick in the wall as he thought things over. His heart was hurting at the loss of yet another family member. Caleb had always been getting into trouble as a kid, but never gotten as deep as he ever had.

"Nothing. You boys are shit out of luck and I'm out of here. Guards, I'd like to return to my cell now please."

The guard standing behind Johnson moved forward and assisted the man in getting up from his chair. He gave to two CSI's a grin as he was released from the excess links and escorted from the room. Nick didn't move, kept his eyes on the table in front on him. Warrick kept his eyes on Nick, filled with concern and worry.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Leaving the prison was much faster than getting inside. And the good warden was less inclined to talk with them this time. He did complain about upsetting his prisoners and making commotions that didn't need to be made. All in all, Nick couldn't have been happier to get out of that place.

His breathing slowly returned to normal. He hadn't even realized it had been different when he was inside, but his chest was a little tight and sore. Nick followed behind Warrick and Sophia as they moved through the main gate back out into the parking lot.

"You two get what you needed?" Sophia asked now that they were free of ease dropping eyes and ears.

Warrick took heavier steps, "No. Guy didn't know anything or was just that willing to not tell us a thing. Waste of time."

They got to the truck and the sedan. Sophia turned to look back at the two men, "Well, we should get back to Vegas then. Maybe something moved along while we were away."

Nick nodded and was about to answer when a vibration went off in his jean pocket. With a roll of his eyes, he reached down and retrieved the annoying little device. "Some days I just wish to throw this thing into Lake Mead and be done with it."

"Only a dream, bro," Warrick chuckled as he opened the driver's door to the truck.

"Stokes…oh hey, Sam…Yeah. Still out at the prison with Sophia…what ya need?"

The one sided conversation continued as Nick and Sam talked things over. Warrick gave up trying to follow it and figure out what they were talking about. Sounded like a new case had come up, once again. It was getting frustrating that they kept getting side tracked.

Nick flipped his phone shut and rubbed his face with his free hand, "Looks like we need to take off again. New case. Brass got a call from the Pioche department. They need our help. Grissom is sending you, me, Greg, and Sara out there."

"I'm gonna need one of you to go back with me first," Sophia spoke up from her position by her sedan, "Got a nice warm passenger seat waiting."

"Alright," Warrick threw Nick the keys, "I'll head back to town, grab the other two. They'll get lost without some help. Meet ya there as soon as I can get Greg moving."

"Sounds good. I'll wait for you," Nick smiled as he moved past the taller man to get into the driver's seat. The drive wouldn't be too long from their current position. And it would give him some time to think things over. Nick watched the police sedan pull away first before turning the truck engine on. It rumbled under him, reminding him how little he actually was.

TBC…

Extra: Whatever you just read of the prison is from research only, I've never been there. So, I hope it wasn't too far off. All the facts are true, just the layout was fictional. And I changed the name of the warden as well and made up a personality for him. Hope it worked!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Head's up on this chapter. Might be a bit confusing if you read it too quickly…trying something a tad new. And I must say, this has been one of my favorite chapters to write. Hope you all enjoy. And please review! I miss hearing from you guys! Alright, I hope this works. Bye!

**Chapter 12:**

_**Nothing you do for children is ever wasted. They seem not to notice us, hovering, averting our eyes, and they seldom offer thanks, but what we do for them is never wasted.**_

_**Garrison Keillor**_

present_…_

Nick gently placed his pen down on the lined paper of his notebook. His fingers took a moment to stretch out to their normal length. There was a cramp in his neck from having his head bent for so long. Looking over at the clock, Nick shrugged at the time.

The sun was still out, abet a little lower in the sky. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. But his head really didn't want to think about food at that moment. It was still swimming in the sea of memories and he was drowning little by little. Soon, the only thing he would be able to see would be the last lap of water brushing over his wide, gasping mouth.

His muscles in his butt and legs had gone numb so it took him a moment longer in getting out of the chair than he would have liked. Wobbling his feet a little, Nick was able to take a couple steps forward, enough that he was standing next to his bed.

Everything in him wanted nothing more than to fall boneless down onto the sheets, but Nick also didn't want to make a habit out of napping in the middle of the afternoon. When he finally would return to work, he wanted to be able to fall back into his normal routine with little to no problems. And getting over a nap obsession would be too much.

Focusing on his doorway, Nick tried to make himself walk forward. There were rays of sunlight dancing across the floor outside that door, not a whole lot of darkness waiting for him. But his feet had a mind of their own. He ended up looking down into the green world caught in a bit of glass.

Nick carefully removed the top of the aquarium, turning the light off in the process. His hand seemed large amongst the green plastic vines and small crickets hoping here and there on their own personal missions. The frog didn't bother to avoid him. She sat, waiting, watching.

It was always an odd feeling. Her flesh had no terms to describe them. Nick could tell anyone how the feathers of a parakeet felt different than those of a large, Caribbean parrot. But when it came to talking about the smoothness and sleek shine the frog had in his hand, he was at a loss.

She settled nicely in his palm after some shifting and extending of her fragile limbs. In a way, they reminded Nick of the bones collected in a bird's wing. And her large eyes, they were soft, not menacing in any means. She was comfortable with him and, deep down, him with her.

"How are ya today, li'l darlin'?" Nick drawled out for her, almost sing-songing it for the amphibian. She responded with a twitch of her head, a blink of black eyes. Her toes spread out against the paleness of his skin. The color was intriguing.

"Not gonna talk to me today, eh Reveille? Not even a hello?"

The tiny weight shifted in his hand, her body moving backwards just a little bit. But the frog made no move to jump from his hand. She had never tried to get away from him in all the time they had been together. It was another thing about this situation he didn't get.

When ever they went frog catching when he was younger, the frogs and toads would hop and leap as fast as they could to get away from the children chasing them around. And when you finally did capture one, it squirmed and puffed its chest out the best it could in means to escape. Rev seemed to have no desire to run from him.

Nick smiled and walked his way out into the hallway now. The frog shifted only to take in different view points of her journey. They walked into the kitchen together, Nick standing on the tile for just a moment.

"Gonna have to put ya down for a minute. Should really eat something, haven't eaten since breakfast this morning with Warrick," Nick mumbled as he coaxed the frog down onto the marble of his counter top.

Reveille got interested in her new spot quickly, taking small steps with her long limbs. She looked over the newspaper he had sitting there while the Texan whipped some frozen burritos out of his freezer to nuke them in the microwave.

As he waited for the beep, Nick shuffled around in his fridge, grabbing a bag of shredded cheese and a can of root beer. He set the stuff down and watched Rev move closer to the aluminum can. She reached out and put her front right pads on the coolness only to pull her leg back quickly. Nick couldn't help, but to chuckle at the confusion he found. If one could say a frog got confused that was.

"Better watch out, Rev. Kinda cold. Might stick to it if you're not careful."

It never occurred to Nick that talking to a poisonous dart frog was probably not a good thing. But, he knew, that whether it was this frog or something else, he needed something to talk to. And Rev was actually pretty amusing in the end. It was almost as if she had a personality all her own and was giving him those puppy eyes for the best crickets money could buy.

The microwave dinged and Nick quickly wrapped his hand in a towel to remove the hot plate. He quickly sprinkled some cheese over the top of the steaming burritos before simply chucking the bag back into the fridge. Nick walked his plate and the can out into the living room and placed them on the low table in front of his couch.

Then he walked back and collected the frog.

Rev took up the other cushion on the plush sofa. When Nick had first tried this, he had been worried the fabric of the cushion might do something to the tiny frog. But she seemed to enjoy it, tucking her legs up underneath her as if getting ready to relax. In fact, there had been a couple of times that she had fallen asleep like that, with him on the couch.

Nick smiled and reached for the remote. It flipped on, the speakers emitting some noise from some movie Nick had no interest in. The channels ate into one another and Nick blinked with ever switch. He found some random golfing match out of some city. It was enough background noise for him to wolf down the burritos.

Slamming back the rest of his root beer, Nick leaned back and propped his feet up on the table. The match was good, leader in front by four strokes. It was a twelve under par match. Lots of big names, lots of money at stake. And some award that the announcer seemed obsessed with.

Not realizing it, Nick's eyes suddenly felt heavy. His head fell over to the side, rolling along the back of the couch. He fought to keep his eyes open. But he was slowly losing the battle. As the newest golfer on the screen stepped up to the green, Nick let his eyes fall shut. And welcomed any dream that would obviously result from it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

There was a knock at the door. Nick groaned and kicked out his feet. His right foot came crashing down right on top of a cold, crusty plate. He made a face as he peeled the mess away from his flesh. A couple particles of dried burrito came off as well.

Nick stood, stretched his back with his hands pressing hard onto the lower part of his back. His mouth opened wide into a yawn, breath rushing out in a low rumble from deep in his chest. Licking at his lips absently and running his hands through his short hair, Nick shuffled towards his door. A glance at the clock told him he hadn't been asleep for very long.

Wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand, Nick reached out and unlocked the door. No one had said a work on the other side of the wood, but it didn't seem to occur to Nick at all in his sleepy state. The knob turned easily. And the door seemed to open with no help from him. As if the wind pushed it wide open.

At first, Nick saw no one. His eyes shifted to the right, to the left under his frown. It was only when he lifted his right hand to scratch at his neck was his eyesight turned downward. His confusion got even greater.

"Miguel? Wha' are ya doing here?"

A mop of light brown hair covered the boy's face from the angle Nick was looking down at him with. What he could see was the fumbling hands, twisting around each other in a nervous fashion. The kid was dressed in blue jeans, a red t-shirt, and white sneakers.

"Miguel?" Nick tried again.

The boy looked up at him, brown eyes full of question, "Mr. Stokes, can I come in?"

Nick and Miguel had seen each other a few times since the events that had happened to them. The boy had been over to his house before, but it was a good walk from the foster home he was living in. Leaning out a little more, Nick scanned his driveway and the street.

"How'd you get here?"

"I rode my bike," Miguel pointed to the Trek lying in the grass, "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure. Right this way."

There was some awkward movement, but they both stood in the open area between the kitchen and the living room. Nick took to studying the boy, trying to figure out why he was here, now. And Miguel was interested only in the tile of the floor.

Dropping down to his knee, Nick leveled himself with the boy, "Hey bud, what brought you here?"

"I heard you saw my dad."

It was quiet and Nick almost missed it. Almost. But when his brain put meaning to those seven words, his back went stock straight.

"From who?"

"Mrs. Krahn heard about it. And she was talking to someone on the phone. I was in the hallway at the time, with Tom."

"But how did she find out?" Nick didn't remember anyone contacting the woman about the boy she had in her care recently. But there were more people on the police force than he knew so it might be possible.

Miguel shrugged, didn't say a word. He had gotten a little taller, a lot skinner since the time with the mad man. The boy had handled the situation with his parents fairly well. He had never been to see his father in the prison. And it interested Nick why it was such a big deal now.

"Hey, you thirsty? I got root beer."

"Okay. Thanks."

"You take a seat. Oh, and look out for Rev. She's on the couch."

Walking quickly into the kitchen, Nick tried to keep the questions in his head in order. He didn't want to sound like a blubbering idiot to the kid. Fishing out two more cans of soda, Nick walked back into the living room. Miguel had sat in the chair on the other side of the table.

Nick reached a can over before settling himself back down onto the sofa. He had checked the frog, but she didn't move at all. She was completely asleep.

"Why did you come here today, Miguel?"

Again, the boy shrugged, "I dunno. Just…"

"Curious about your father?" Nick tried to prod out.

"Yeah…I guess. I mean, I haven't seen him in awhile and stuff. Does he miss me?"

"Miguel, bud. I didn't really have a chance to talk to him about that stuff. We had some questions about his brother. I'm sorry, but we didn't mention you. It's probably for the best."

"Yeah, I'm only his kid after all. Don't need to talk about me," Miguel's tone had dropped, taken on a harder edge.

Nick shifted his weight around as he thought hard over his next words, "Look, I'm sorry. I told you before though, if you really want to go see him, I can take you. No problem. All you have to do is ask."

"I suppose. But I don't know if I should. He wasn't nice to me at all. Tried to kill my tadpoles and everything."

They both fell silent. Nick fidgeted a little, wishing he could think of something perfect to say. Something that would make everything better, everything clearer. But he was coming up with a blank.

Except for a small thought in the back of his head. It made Nick frown suddenly. He took in the boy sitting across from him with a new eye. Something wasn't right.

"Miguel, what is today?"

"I dunno. Didn't look, don't care."

"But, I saw your father months ago, in that prison. Not today. No, not today. I went to the doctor's today…"

"You saw my father! Did he say he missed me?"

"Not today, no. Something's wrong," Nick stood and looked quickly over his living room. There were suddenly flashes of light, like lightening from outside his window.

"Mr. Stokes, you saw my father? What did he say?"

Miguel was at his side, holding his hand now. It was ice cold. Nick tried to pull away, frown getting deeper in his brow. But the hand held tight. And the cold seemed to be moving up his arm now.

"Miguel, something isn't right here. What day is it?"

"It doesn't matter. You saw my father. What did he say?"

The questions were getting meaner with each passing through the boy's lips. Miguel's face was losing its color. His eyes were shrinking back into his skull. And the lightening was getting brighter, faster.

"What did he say?"

"Noth…nothing about you. I'm sorry, but it wasn't today," Nick's voice came out in a rush of air. His lungs began heaving as he tried to figure this out. But his lungs exploded out every drop of oxygen he held when Miguel's neck opened and the blood began to pour out.

His hair suddenly went damp, tangled up. The color changed, going into a blonde shade. It worked with the paleness his skin had taken. And the blue tint of his lips seemed to match the freeze in his hand, still clamped hard on Nick's.

"Did he offer you any gum?"

Nick's heart stopped, "What?"

More blood poured from the slit now across his neck. The edges turned out a little, green puss filling the voids free of red. A smell of swamp and water filled Nick's mind.

"My father. Did he have any gum?" the voice began to get raspy.

Nick couldn't move, horror filling his entire face. Everything began to change around him, shifting from his living room to trees and water. And Miguel's eyes changed right before his.

"They came to my house. They had a fight. They couldn't find what they were looking for..."

Ten year old Cassie McBride looked up him through dripping eyelashes, blood covering the front of her shirt. Her hand was just as cold. And Nick couldn't help, but to scream as her eyes changed yet again taking on an aged appearance.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The scream erupted from deep inside him, filling the living room with the fear and pain. Nick fell oddly to the floor, kicking as he went down. He quickly pulled both his hands up to his heaving chest. Everything hurt, especially his heart.

He scanned the room around him, eyes wide and glossy. Tears rested just on the inside of his eyelids, waiting to be released. His ears open to any sounds that shouldn't be in the room.

Reveille croaked, rudely awoken from her nap. Nick's eyes snapped to the tiny, black ones. He tried breathing through his mouth, tried counting backwards in his head. Nothing was working to calm his nerves, slow his heart rate.

No one was in the room with him. He hadn't been brought from his sleep by a knock on the door. Nick was alone in his living room. There weren't any eyes on him.

Shudders ran through his form as he tried to bring himself back together. A hitch in his breath caused him to start coughing, punishment on his torso. Groaning, Nick placed his left hand on his stomach. The right one was reaching out to the light switch.

There was more light, more security. Nick leaned forward against the wall. His breathing began to not hurt anymore. He was able to focus. No one was in the room with him, but he had to be certain.

Nick moved to his doorway with shaky footsteps. His mouth was dry, tongue seemed to be swollen to the roof of his mouth. Carefully, as if the door were red hot, Nick reached out and flipped open the viewer. He looked through it.

Miguel wasn't there. There wasn't a bike in his grass.

Laughing a little breathlessly, hysterically, Nick took a couple big steps backwards, away from the door. He turned to the frog watching his every move, "Come on Rev."

He scooped her up and walked away from the front door, flipping on every light switch he passed, electric bill be damned. Once he was inside his bedroom, Nick closed and locked the door. Instead of putting Reveille back into her home, he took her to the desk with him. She settled onto the wood without hesitation.

Nick sat heavily into the chair, looked down at the notebook. His hands were trembling, along with his bottom lip. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. Everything was coming too forward, too quickly. This wasn't supposed to happen.

All he wanted to do was pick up the notebook and rip out everyone of the pages. Throw them across the room, along with the damn pen. Nick wasn't nothing more to do with this. It hurt too much. Made him think about things he didn't care to. And it made his ache.

His right hand reached out, fingers brushed over the pen. It rolled a little before he caught it and picked it up. Every fiber wanted to break it, remove it from his sight. Along with all the pain he was holding inside.

But he maneuvered it in his hand so it rested against his thumb and middle finger of his left hand. With one more quick glance at the pale green frog, Nick began to write some more.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

_That was a piece of hell! My god! Why did that have to happen? And now of all times. This isn't making sense to me anymore. I don't want to do this._

_I hate the doctor for making me write these things down. Having to relive so much that hurt too damn much. It isn't fair! She doesn't know what she's asking._

_And shit! My hand won't stop shaking. This isn't going to work._

_I can't think about him and them at the same time. Cassie and Miguel have nothing to do with him, not this time. They shouldn't have to bear anything he caused, even in my head. It isn't right._

_Something needs to change. I need to change. I can't do this anymore._

_And I can't write about Cassie anymore. I won't be able to live through that again, not on these pages. She is worth so much more. Cassie is a fighter, a good person. She will not have her story written by me, not on here._

_The doctor can go to hell if she thinks I should. Hell, I won't even mention what the dream is about, to anyone. No one needs to know. I can do this all myself. I'm stronger than them, than him. I won't be defeated by this._

_Cassie will not be mentioned anymore. I can't handle it. She will be free to away from this nightmare, even in thought. And I want her free of my dreams. I've seen her enough in my sleep and always to late. _

_This is one battle I won't give in to!_

TBC…

Extra: I don't know about P.D. frogs, but I did have a gray tree frog that you could carry around with you like that. So, thought I'd use it. And, bonus plot hint for anyone who can guess the significance of the new frog name. (Emphasis on _GUESS_!) gins


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Only got a couple of guesses on the name, two which were right. I went with the collie mascot for Texas A&M on that one. Thought it worked… Ah well. Anyways, off to another tangent. I must admit, I don't really like this chapter. I don't know why, but I do. But thanks for reading and please review. Always is nice to hear from the readers. Until next time…

**Chapter 13:**

_**Bang, bang! **_

Could a body close the mind out  
Stitch a seam across the eye  
If you can be good, you'll live forever  
If you're bad, you'll die when you die

Hearing only one true note  
On the one and only sound  
Unzip my body  
Take my heart out  
'Cause I need a beat to give this tune

_**Ramalama (Bang Bang)-Roisin Murphy lyrics**_

Sixty three days earlier_…_

Nick couldn't help, but to rub at his eyes. He didn't know whether he was trying to fight off exhaustion or tears. Both were equally annoying. And it made it harder to drive back home to Vegas. To his home and his family.

The blue hooded sweatshirt was warm, but he was still covered in a cold sweat. Nick's hands would twitch against the steering wheel every once in awhile, fingers flexing and relaxing. He could almost still feel her small, delicate hands within his larger, stronger ones. There was a chill buried in the innocent flesh and it transferred into him. He wanted to give her something to hold onto, but was short on options. All he had were words and kindness. It was almost laughable.

He had stayed an extra day back in Pioche, even after talking to Cassie about what had happened. Everyone had called him wondering where he was, what he was doing. It had taken a few minutes extra to convince Warrick not to come and drag him back home. But his friend understood when Nick finally relented and mumbled out his reason over the phone. All he needed was one more day to be a friend to a lost little girl.

Bright, colored lights shined on the horizon. Nick couldn't stop a smile from rising on his lips at the sight. Vegas was a city he had always dreamed about, heard about as a kid. It still amazed him that he lived here, worked here. Had family here. It caused a small burst of warmth to shot through his heart.

The traffic was light during this part of the evening. Rush hour was past. Now it was simply tourists and late night people wandering to and from different corners. Nick relaxed a little more in his seat as he cruised the familiar roads, turning in the direction of the crime lab.

Several police units were at hand in the lab's parking lot. Nick didn't think much of it. It wasn't something new. And he would recognize Brass' Magnum anywhere. The detectives were in the house. Along with the rest of his coworkers.

Nick pulled into his spot and put the truck into park. Looking once down at his quarter tank meter, Nick leaned his head back against the rest and closed his eyes. He wanted to go home and get some rest. The motel bed hadn't been the best and he missed his box spring.

Coughing a little, Nick forced his body into motion and moved out into the night air. There was a slight breeze, lifting and shifting his short hair around his forehead. Rubbing at his right eye like a five year old that had just woken up; he walked towards the entrance to his work place.

People were moving around quickly, never stopping. The cops avoided his questioning gaze. Panic, tension was thick in the air. Nick frowned and looked around without moving his head, just his eyes. His lips pursed outwards a little, tongue tight against the roof of his mouth against the front teeth. The receptionist saw him and almost seemed to faint from some sort of relief.

"Mr. Stokes! Oh, I'm so glad you're back. Everyone has been wondering where you were. Detective Brass almost went out to find you himself tonight. And Mr. Grissom has locked himself up in his office, only to be retrieved when you arrived. I can call him right away and let him know. Mr. Brown will be happy to see you. He was the most worried after all. Called you his brother more times than I could count when they were all talking..."

Nick listened to her ramble, her words getting faster as she tried to get every thought out to him as quickly as possible. And it did nothing, but confuse him even more. He held up a hand and cleared his throat, bringing the young brunette to a halt.

"But I was working a case. Up in Pioche. Everyone knew I was staying there."

Her head bobbed, "Yes! They knew, but everyone was expecting you this morning. And then she came and everyone got all panicked. Mr. Brown talked with her, sent her away, but then they got worried when you hadn't come yet. They had all been here working the case and wanted to find you, but couldn't leave."

"What? Who?" Nick shook his head, both hands coming up now.

"Kelly Gordon. She came to the lab to speak with you about something. Left a note."

Nick's mouth went into full blown cotton mode. Hell, his entire body felt like it filled with cotton in that very moment. He couldn't believe that Kelly would come to the crime lab looking for him. As far as he knew, she was still locked up in jail for another year or more. But she was looking for him, here of all places.

"Where's the note?"

"Mr. Grissom took it. Said he wanted to be alerted when you got back. I should really call him," the receptionist's hand reached for the phone to punch in the correct numbers.

But Nick didn't really connect to what she was doing right away. Anger and frustration took over and made him think about how Grissom was babying him again. Thinking he couldn't handle something as simple as Kelly showing up at the crime lab when she was supposed to be in lock up. The anger won out and he stopped the woman from contacting his boss. His face took on a look the woman had never seen from the easy going Texan.

"Don't bother. I'll just go there right away myself," Nick forced a grin and nodded at her, "Thanks for letting me know."

She bought it, "Oh, no problem Mr. Stokes. Hope everything is alright."

He had to turn away from her smile before it threatened to blind him. And it seemed everyone in the lab knew that she had been there. Smiles were given, people moved far out of his way. It was more than a little irritating. He could also swim through the amount of pity they were laying on.

The door to Grissom's office was closed, the blinds shut against the hallway. Nick stopped in front of the wooded barrier, unsure with how he wanted to proceed. Part of him, the good CSI, wanted to knock and wait for permission to enter. The other side, well, it wanted to forget all about manners and demand what the hell was going on. Bad Nicky won out.

With uncharacteristic roughness, Nick threw the door open hard enough that it bounced hard off the wall. His hand stayed out to catch it so it wouldn't slam him in the face. And Nick took large steps into the room, smoke almost filtering from his nostrils.

Grissom was sitting in his chair behind the desk. A look of surprise and uncertainty stained his entire face. It would be something Nick should gloat and relish in, but anger was still running the show. His voice came out in a deep growl.

"You have a letter that belongs to me I hear."

His eyes gave away the location of such a letter as Grissom glanced to the side of the desk. It was in a plain white envelope and from the looks of it, unopened. Nick still didn't stop his eyes from narrowing as he waited from some words from the older man.

"Yes, it was dropped off at the front desk. I asked to hold onto it for you. And I was to be told when you arrived…" Grissom almost finished to himself.

"Oh you were, but I thought this would be so much more fun. Why isn't she still behind bars?"

The tone, the words, Nick couldn't seem to be able to control them anymore. They almost had minds of their own and it almost felt good. Something uncurled in the corner of his mind and smiled at the treatment of someone whose opinion meant so much to him. It was a surge of power that Nick couldn't name. And he really, really liked it.

Grissom removed the glasses from his nose and placed them on the desk. He tried to keep his face as blank as possible, "She was up for parole and they felt she had served the sentence to the term that was satisfactory. According to her parole officer, she has been out for five days. And it was the first time she came here for anything."

"She served her term? But I thought she had a year left?" Nick's voice was thick with confusion.

"Yes, but remember, she really didn't have anything to do with the murder herself. According to her statement, she was only there for a time, then ran when her boyfriend killed the other man."

Nick scrunched up his face, "Why wasn't I told about this earlier? I would have liked to have gone."

"I didn't allow it. Besides, I wasn't here when Conrad was contacted about it. I had that class at the body farm."

That was the last straw and it took all Nick's strength to wait for the other man to stop talking before exploding, "You didn't allow it! And how in the hell is that your decision in any way? Huh? You ever think I wanted to be there? No! Because you don't care. Or don't listen, either one works for me."

Grissom lost every once of control he had and slammed his hands on his desk as he pushed himself to his feet, "That wasn't something you needed to go through, Nick. It wasn't important and I didn't think it would come to this."

"Not important!" Nick took a step closer to the desk, hands curling into fists, "How in the _hell _could you think this wasn't important? I mean, shit, her father put me _in_ _the god-damned ground_!"

"Yes, but she didn't have anything to do with it. You only saw her that one time. She had no reason to come here and see you. And this letter needed to be kept away…" Grissom's tone dropped as his thoughts caught up with his mouth.

"Kept away…from me, that is. Why do you think I can't deal with something like this?"

The older man took a deep breath and counted backwards slowly in his head. He needed to get it together or this conversation was going to go no where quickly. Grissom took a second to look at Nick and wasn't happy with what he saw. Under all that anger, exhaustion and pain was clearly present. This wasn't something the other man needed right now.

"It's not that at all."

The quiet response brought Nick up short, "What is it then?"

"You've been through a lot the past few days, with that case. I talked with Catherine and Sara. I know what happened. And I didn't want to top it all off with this until I felt you were ready for it. I wasn't going to keep it from you."

Everything slipped away from Nick with the deep sigh that resonated through the office. Suddenly he felt lost and confused. This wasn't him, this wasn't what he did. Nick turned his head a little to the right, eyes moving away from his boss. Seems he couldn't run forever from things, they always caught up.

"Can I have it?"

Grissom tried to study Nick the best he could from his spot, standing behind his desk. The CSI was hiding his eyes, but the posture was enough. Nick was at his breaking point. It was all going to come down soon.

"Nick…I don't know if it's such a good idea."

"Just, Gris, let me have it. I'll take it and read it somewhere else."

"Alright," Grissom relented, "But that somewhere else will be at home. You are off for two days."

Nick's jaw dropped and he turned his gaze back at Grissom, "Two days? Why?"

"You need a break. I will expect you back at the regular shift when you're time's up. Get some rest, some closure. What happened in Pioche was not easy and I know you need to think about it all."

They stood, looking at each other. For what, neither quite knew anymore. This conversation at taken too many 180 degree turns into too little time. And it all made Nick feel even more tired.

"The letter?"

Clenching his teeth together, Nick held out his hand. He kept his eyes hard, no wavering there. This was something he was going to win. No one, especially Grissom, was going to keep this from him.

Without looking down, Grissom grabbed the white envelope and pointed it straight at his CSI. There was a moment of hesitation before Nick pulled it from his grasp. It felt heavy and loaded for as thin as it looked.

Nick simply nodded and left without speaking another word. He missed Grissom literally collapsing back into his chair, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. All he wanted to do was get to the locker room and leave as quickly as he could.

People still avoided him, shot his nervous smiles. He didn't know if anyone had heard what had taken back in that office, but he found he didn't really care. Maybe it was time for people to see Nick Stokes as someone other than the Southern gentleman.

He pushed into the locker room, head kept down. None of the other graveyard CSI's or detectives had been milling around on either of his treks to and from that office. Nick had no idea where they were and didn't really want to see any of them.

Greg and Warrick were standing, waiting for him, "Hey bro. How ya doing?"

It was clear as day the worry and relief in Warrick's voice. Nick remembered the receptionist saying something about everyone worrying when he didn't show after Kelly had left. Everyone thought he must have not been able to handle himself and got kidnapped again. Great.

"Fine. Going home."

Moving out of his way, Greg noticed the white paper held in his right hand, "What's that? The note? I still can't believe she had the nerve to leave something."

"Just drop it Greg," Nick muttered as he unlocked his gray coated locker. He threw the door back and quickly began to gather up his personal effects that had been left before that lovely trip to the prison.

"But Nick, she shouldn't be here. I mean, she's his daughter."

Nick slammed the locker door shut, "I know! I know…"

Warrick moved closer to his friend and placed his hand on the tense shoulder. He was worried about what all this was doing to his friend. Nick was reacting way off the charts. He knew it had to do with everything, the serial, the missing girl, Kelly. It wasn't long before they would have to put him back together after he fell off his wall.

"You need a lift home?"

Shrugging off the hand, Nick walked away from the two towards the door, sarcasm and a sneer evident, "No thanks. I think I can handle this one on my own. I promise to not let her get me."

And he was gone.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg sat uneasy in the passenger seat while Warrick drove the way through the city. Another body had been found. And the same meaning of death according to the on-scene officer.

While they had been away, Catherine had dealt with one all on her own. Whoever was doing this was obviously not too affected by the loss of Caleb Johnson. But it did confirm there was more than one party involved in this mess.

"Greg, man, stop moving around so damn much. Getting annoying."

"Sorry, just uncomfortable," Greg mumbled to Warrick as he stared out the windshield.

"What's up?"

"I dunno. Just surprised with everything, I guess. And kinda worried about Nick."

Warrick sighed and readjusted his grip on the wheel, "Yeah, but my boy'll pull through. He's a tough one. Just been a rough week."

"Yeah, but even after everything else, I've never seen Nick like this. And from listening to Sara, he attacked that boy in the interrogating room. That isn't something he does."

"Let me tell ya from experience, Nick has a temper, just like everyone. He's directed it at me a couple of times and it ain't pretty. It's normal for him to lose it. And if he hadn't right now, I would be even more worried. Stress can kill a man."

"But you are worried, right?"

"Of course, Greg," Warrick shook his head, "But I'll wait it out. Nick will talk about it when he's ready. I'll probably head over there after shift to check on him, drug him if need be so he gets some sleep. Dude needs to get some deep sleep."

Greg shifted again, looking out the window to his right. The area they were in was dark, farther away from the lights of the main attractions. This was a part of Vegas that was always missed on the tours.

He was about to ask another question when a police sedan pulled out of nowhere, sirens blaring into the night sky. Warrick had to shift a little to let the other guy get past. Both CSI's watched, moving at their same speed. The car turned down they street they were heading to.

"What the hell?" Warrick asked, not expecting a response.

The truck jerked forward as he applied more pressure, surging more gasoline through the engine. Another sedan was heading towards then, from some side street in front of them. It too swerved down the street they were destined to go down.

"Something's wrong."

Nodding to Greg's observation, Warrick turned the truck down the street and looked at the cop cars lined up, zigzagged. The officers were all out of their cars, guns at the ready. Warrick pulled over to the side of the street, close to the farthest sedan. He didn't get out of the car, but his hand strayed towards the heat he carried on his hip.

Greg rolled down his window, wanting to hear what was going on. He could see two officers signaling for someone to drop something, but couldn't make out a person past the half circle of steel. But now he could hear things better.

"Drop the gun!

"Move away from the girl!

"Hands in the air!"

"Drop the gun now! Drop it!"

"Step away!"

Somehow the lights seemed to shift together at the same time, igniting the entire area in flashed of red and blue. Standing in the middle of the circle was a tall, brick wall of a man. And when his eyes were lit up, Warrick felt all the blood draining from his body, dripping slowly into the upholstery.

"Oh fuck."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick threw his cell phone onto his couch, making sure to turn off the ringer in the process. A weight settled down onto his body, pressing his shoulders down to the ground. He kept yawning, fighting it, but never winning.

He stood for a moment, looking around. It looked the same as always, but Nick was just confused on where he should go first. Another yawn split his face and he decided the bedroom would make the most sense.

Stepping into his personal chambers, Nick quickly pulled his sweatshirt off, along with the white t-shirt underneath. A layer of sweat glistened on his pecs, his abs as he worked at his belt buckle. The jeans fell to the floor, feet stepping away from them.

Nick stretched his arms over his head as he walked away from his bed, into his bathroom. He answered each of his body's needs and brushed his teethe from longer than was probably really necessary. Taking a good look in the mirror, Nick was shocked with how much older he appeared at that moment.

Spitting into the sink, Nick grabbed the blue towel and wiped down his face. He tried to hand it, but it fell to the ground despite his best efforts. After staring at it for a moment, Nick decided he really didn't care about it all that much right at that moment.

He shuffled back into his bedroom, limbs getting heavier with each step. Kicking at his pants, Nick finally noticed the white paper. Frowning, Nick reached down for it and wrestled it out of his pocket. It was the envelope with the note. Nick had forgotten about it on the way home.

Nick sat hard down onto his mattress, trying to see through the envelope with x-ray vision he knew he didn't have. But it was worth a shot, and a waste of a little time. Nothing liked stalling for a moment to catch back up.

The seal wasn't tight and Nick ripped the top flap off quickly. He opened it with pressure on each side, revealing the single piece of paper inside. It was small and square, plain white. Except for the marks made by a blue pen.

It pulled out with ease, but Nick kept himself from focusing on the words. He could see the note, see something was there, but kept it fuzzy. It was light, crisp in his hand.

Taking a deep breath, Nick focused his vision and read the short note, 'Nick, I didn't take it with me. Just thought you might like to know.'

"What?" Nick said loudly into the quiet of his bedroom. That was not what he was expecting. All the big deal and worry over that? It was almost ludicrous. And it was enough to get Nick to start laughing.

He dropped back onto his bed, note falling to the floor. Laugher ran free from his, shaking his entire body. It felt good and helped to clear his mind. But not enough to notice the bottom of the note had signs of being torn. Something was missing, but he was too wrapped up in other thoughts to notice it.

TBC…


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill yaw.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **So sorry about the horrible wait! I really didn't mean for it to get that bad. And I hope you guys are back to read some more. Warning that it might be another short wait for the next chapter again though. Moving and going back to school this next week so a lot to do. But I promise, this will continue. So, if you're still with me and not too mad, please review and let me know how everyone's doing. Again, sorry! And enjoy!

**Chapter 14:**

_**A timid person is frightened before a danger, a coward during the time, and a courageous person afterward.**_

_**Jean Paul Richter (1763 - 1825) **_

The semi-automatic weapon waved through the air, threatening anyone that stepped free of their police sedan. Orders were still being shouted to the man, but he wasn't listening. His face was filled with a crazed smile as he flashed a look over the area. The glazed eyes were filled with blood lust.

Warrick carefully and slowly opened the door to the truck, trying to not make any noise in the process. It was an irrational thought, but he still wanted to take every caution possible. His feet hit the ground with a loud thud that seemed to echo through his brain. Warrick winced, but forced himself fully out of the truck.

His eyes were wide as he watched the man. The same man that had hurt them, hurt Nick. Now he was standing in the middle of this street. And Warrick could now see the girl being held in his other hand. Concern and anger washed over him in waves.

She was young, red hair. Her eyes were wide, mouth gaping open with deep breaths. Warrick could see she was in pain, but couldn't tell from what. Her tiny white tank was turning pink from back to front. With every move the man took, her body shook and jerked in his grasp. Soft cries, whimpers escaped her throat. Her lips opened in silent pleas for help, a savior.

"Put the gun down! Let the girl go!"

"Hands in the air!"

The man looked almost the same as before. His hair was a little different, longer, but he was still as tall as Warrick could remember and with the same thickness in muscle. A tan hid the scars that Warrick was sure had been there. And now he had another victim in his hands.

"Let the girl go!"

"Drop the gun!"

It seemed that Shaun had finally had enough of the orders and aimed the gun at the cars that were trying to surround him. Several rounds of bullets thundered from the gun, pounding into the cement and steel of cars.

Warrick and Greg dropped to the ground. Greg tried to hide the best he could behind the tire, scared out his skin. Small pieces of pavement showered the taller CSI as he pressed himself into the side of the truck.

The shooting stopped and again, the police began yelling their instructions to the tall man. Shaun only smiled more, laugher loud. His grip on the girl tightened as he took a couple steps backwards. There was no car, nothing, but a fence behind him. No where he could go in that direction.

Before he knew what he was doing, Warrick stood to his feet and left the safety of his truck. He could hear Greg hissing at him to get down, but couldn't. His shoulders squared, chin high in defiance as he walked right up to the row of sedans. The act was enough to catch Shaun's attention.

He could tell the manic remembered who he was. The eyes went sinister under the dark brow, lips forming a warning sneer. Warrick watched as he gestured the gun at him in sort of a 'fuck-you' gesture. Several cops got jumpy with that.

"Stay still boys. No need to get jumpy," Warrick said with more confidence than he had thought he would be able to pull off at that moment.

Suddenly Vartann materialized from out of no where at his left side, "Brown, you're not qualified to deal with this situation. Get back, now."

"I know this guy."

This comment didn't seem to impress the detective at all, "I know."

"Huh?" Wide green eyes swiveled away from the man and the large gun.

"We found his information at the church. Knew he was part of that damn sick game. And its part of the reason you shouldn't be out here right now."

"Huh."

Warrick was at an odd loss of words. Suddenly he felt even more sympathy for Nick and understood how it felt when everyone else knew everything about you and what had happened. It wasn't something he would admit he enjoyed all that much. Sometimes secrets were best.

"Get back before I have to make you, Warrick."

"Wait!"

Both men looked up at the shout they received under the shrill scream of the red headed girl. Shaun was looking at them intently and nothing about his look was enjoyable.

"I want him, in here now. No one else."

Warrick looked up to see the gun pointed right in his direction. He did notice, much to his relief, that the trigger wasn't covered at that moment. Looking right into the other man's eyes, Warrick shifted so he was facing him more fully.

"I don't think so Warrick," Vartann grabbed his wrist in a tight grip.

"Either you send him to me now or you'll be wearing her brains."

The girl was given a hard shake at the end of the comment, causing her to groan deeply in pain. She wasn't struggling against his grip as much anymore. Warrick knew she didn't have a long time for this to play out.

"It'll be fine. Just cover me. Oh, and watch Greg for me."

He could see the struggle in the detective's eyes, but Vartann did let go. Warrick gave him a small smile before taking a couple of steps forward.

"No, Warrick!"

Greg's voice cried out and Warrick felt himself stop in his tracks. He turned his upper body so he could look at the younger man. Vartann was doing his best at holding the newest CSI back, but Greg was doing a pretty good job at squirming to get free.

"Warrick! Don't!"

"Its okay, Greggo. Just wait for me."

It wasn't enough for Greg to back off, but enough to make him go limp in Vartann's arms. Warrick nodded before turning back to the maniac with the gun. The weapon was still pointed in his direction. And the girl's wide eyes were boring into his when he looked at her.

"You coming or what?" Shaun sneered at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get all up in a twist."

Warrick tried to play it cool and calm, but he was breaking apart inside. His feet carried his body on their own accord and before too lone, he was only a few feet from the gun and the madness. It was chilling.

"So, I see you didn't die. Such a shame. Thought the old guy did enough to make it work."

"Yeah, well, not everything goes according to plan," Warrick ignored looked at Shaun. He was just trying to figure out how he had hurt the girl. And the other man took notice.

"Oh, you guys stopped me before it got good. Only the shot to the back so far. But, it's enough."

"Would have never thought of you as smart enough to be able to do something like this all on your own. Seem to remember the last time, you took the orders."

With that, Warrick managed to make the guy with the guy even more pissed off, "And now, it gonna be your turn. I let her go, but you come with. And no shit."

It wasn't what Warrick had been expecting. And from the protests and shouts from behind him, no one else liked the idea either. But the pleading eyes from the girl twisted his insides up. She reminded him of Tina in a way and if she were in this position, he would have handed himself over already.

"So, we have a deal? You for her and no cops. We leave together and no one follows," Shaun smirked, "I have no problem putting a bullet in the back of your head."

Warrick turned everything around in his head. He never would have gotten out of bed if he knew this was on the day's list of events. The tour director from hell must have had a good laugh over this one.

"She isn't to be harmed anymore.'

"Warrick! Don't do this! Walk away," Vartann shouted over the other officers and Greg's scared voice.

The tall CSI blocked everything out except for the man in front of him. He knew how this guy worked. And if, IF, this all worked, they might get ahead in the case. Warrick wasn't about to think about the results of this at that moment.

"Let her go. She walks over there, then I come with. We walk out of here."

Shaun studied him for a moment. It appeared the man was trying to figure out if his deal was actually being accepted. And the smile he finally gave was enough for Warrick.

"Alright sweetheart," he whispered in the girl's ear, lips brushing the outer shell, "Looks like your knight is here and saving you. Walk."

He shoved her forward and caused her to stumble. Small hands reached up and pressed against the flat stomach. Warrick gave her a small grin when she looked into his green eyes again. He could see the fear and concern, all for him, there. But he pushed it away and looked back at Shaun.

There was scrambling from behind him, more shouts. Shaun's eyes flickered around, no doubt following the girl's movements. The gun bobbed as he waited.

"No you, come on. We have to get going. You tell them to stay put or I'll have to shoot you right here in front of them."

"You die if you do that," Warrick stood to his full height and put his heart back into place.

"And?"

The dead voice, completely void of any emotion, scared Warrick even more. This man in front of him didn't care if he died or not. He would be glad to die if he could kill Warrick right then and there. Nothing was going to stop him from either leaving with Warrick or dying on the street right behind the CSI.

Squaring his shoulders and sending up a silent plea, Warrick turned to face the people behind him. He could see the small group huddled around the girl, trying to help her as much as they could before the paramedics arrived. And then he noticed Greg and Vartann hadn't moved much from their spot either.

A poke in the back with the gun's muzzle opened his mouth, "I'm going with. Don't follow."

There was a hand on his wrist, pulling his weight backwards, away from the familiar red and blue. Warrick kept his green eyes locked on Greg's, hoping to get his message across as he was pulled along. They moved along the fence, to the right.

"You know. This worked out even better than we could have hoped for."

"We?"

"Oh yes, of course. You know we don't do it alone. Same as last time. Well, sort of."

There was a van waiting for them. It was a dark colored mini-van, typical Dodge style. Nothing stood out about it. Anyone could own the damn thing.

"Your chariot, sir," Shaun mocked as the side door opened.

Again, fate seemed to work against Warrick and his body reacted. It froze, heels trying to bury deep into the asphalt of the street.

"This isn't the girl?"

"Nah, but I thought this one was much better."

A wrinkled hand reached out and patted Warrick on the cheek before pulling to give a firm slap, "Now that I have one, another wouldn't hurt. Ready to make a call to Mr. Stokes?"

Warrick started to struggle, but soon lost hold of everything. The hilt of the semi-automatic gun was enough to shatter his exist in the world of the conscious. He didn't feel the hands lifting him into the van or see the eyes studying the street for someone that might have followed. And he certainly didn't feel the vehicle drive away.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg couldn't figure out what to do. His world had just fallen apart, again. No one seemed safe anymore. Now Warrick was gone with the guy with the gun.

He turned to look at where they had dropped the girl to the ground. She had been shot in the lower back. Her death would have been soon, with a bullet in the back of the neck. No one seemed to be able to get her to talk. She only cried.

Not that Greg blamed her at all. He felt like doing the same thing. Vartann was still next to him, but on the phone. Greg couldn't hear what the detective was saying over the buzzing that had settled into his brain.

In his short career as a CSI, too many things had happened, gone wrong. Sure, things had happened before, but not to this extent. Now he had just watched Warrick walk off, probably to his death. It scared the shit out of him.

"Greg. Sanders!" Vartann waved a hand before the young man's nose.

It caused the younger man to jump, "Huh? What?"

"Just got off the phone with Brass. We need to get back to the station, now. Grissom will be waiting as well."

"Alright," Greg tried to get his feet to move, but they remained where they were. He looked down at them as if he had never seen them before in his life. It was the small push from Vartann that got him moving.

He allowed himself to be directed towards the waiting police sedan. Greg wanted to say something about the SUV, but couldn't get the words out. Getting in the passenger seat, he let his head make contact with cool glass of the window. He was suddenly tired.

The other door opened, closed. The car was put into reverse. They were leaving the scene to the other officers, to day shift. Once again graveyard was too involved.

Greg didn't bother to fight the closing of his eyelids as they drove away.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Ringing invaded his dreams. Nick almost screamed to hear the phone. He was supposed to be on a mini vacation and yet the phone was ringing at him, demanding his attention. But he didn't stop himself from reaching over and grabbing it up. He had totally forgotten to unplug his house phone before hiding in his bedroom.

"Hello?"

There wasn't a voice. It was silent. Nick sat up on his free elbow, face frowning, "Hello? Anyone there?"

Still nothing. With a huff of breath, Nick turned the connection off with the press of the talk button and set the phone back in its cradle on the night table. Suddenly awake, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. When he placed his feet on the ground, something crinkled under his weight.

Nick reached down and picked the note up off the carpet. He had reread it many times before falling asleep with unpleasant thoughts. Surprisingly there had been no nightmares, well ones he could remember.

But he didn't feel rested. Nick glanced at the clock and figured he had been out for a little over an hour. It wasn't that impressive. His body wanted more, but his brain was firing away.

Taking a deep breath, Nick rubbed his right hand over his face, his cheek. His skin was warm under his fingers, the slight stubble harsh in contrast. Both eyes shut as a yawn erupted from his lungs. The phone started to ring again.

Reaching over with a groan, Nick tried a more professional approach to his answer, "Stokes."

He waited for an answer, a question, anything. Just silence again.

"Anyone there? Hello? Hello?"

Shaking his head, Nick hung it up and rested the cool phone against the warmth of his thigh. His sleeping shorts had ridden up, but Nick was unconcerned about it at that moment. Something didn't feel right. In his body and in this room.

He looked at the white paper again, reading memorized words. It was an odd thing for her to do. Nick really wanted to get in touch with her and ask her about it in person. He felt they both needed to speak to each other, face to face. There might be more healing from something like that.

The phone went off again, muffled by his flesh. Nick glared at if for a moment before answering it this time, "Hello?"

His voice was hard and cold. And when no one talked, he lost whatever cool he had control over, "Look here asshole. Either you say something or leave me the hell alone."

"Nick?"

The voice brought him up short. His breathing quickened a little as he pressed the phone tighter to his ear. It didn't seem possible that this was happening. Something was off in the voice, a fear of some sort.

"Yeah?"

There was a pause, a deep breath, "I need you to come to me. There's something you need to see, to help me with."

Nick didn't wait for much more before he was on his feet, searching for a pair of jeans, "Okay, where are you? What happened?"

"I can't say now, not over the phone. Just need you to come."

"Alright, going to be alright. Just tell me where you are."

"Just come to the Flamingo. I'm there."

"Are you alone?"

"Not now, not over the phone," the answer was hushed more, mumbled.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Just…don't worry, okay?"

"Alright Nick."

"Just hold on Kelly."

And Nick slammed the phone down and left his bedroom, car keys in his hand.

TBC…


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Thanks again for the patience in getting this chapter out. I hope everyone is still there, though I have to say, missing a few people. Ah well, I know we all have lives and what-not. Got moved in and started some classes yesterday. Should be interesting. Have to get back into student mode after two years off. But, chapters will keep coming. The good stuff is coming! So, go on read and good luck to those of you heading back to school! Bye.

**Chapter 15:**

_**Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear **_

_**in children is increased by tales, so is the other. **_

_**Francis Bacon, "Of Death"**_

Nick rubbed a damp palm against an equally damp forehead. No matter what he tried, there was no removing the liquid his body was dumping from his pours. And it was beginning to burn in his eyes as it ran down past his eyebrows and lashes.

Another street light attempted to stop his progress, but Nick blew through it before the yellow could turn to red. Several other cars were on the road, but the Texan paid them little mind as he weaved around the vehicles moving too slow for his current standards. Only one horn sounded in his wake.

The lights from the Strip were within sight and Nick found himself giving the engine more gasoline. A slight hum answered his efforts, but as a whole, the speed just wasn't enough. Something bothered the CSI about everything, but Nick didn't let himself dwell on anything negative. He knew if he did, there was no way in hell he was going to be able to face Kelly in that casino.

When he had left his apartment building, Nick had grabbed his cell from the couch. It now rested, face down on the passenger seat. No noise came from it and for once, Nick was hoping for some. His fingers itched to call for help, someone else who could be there when he walked in to face one of his demons.

But self anger and hatred roared at those thoughts. A large part of him knew he could do this, had to do this. If he were to call in backup for this simple little meeting, then he was not strong enough. And there was no way he was going to admit he wasn't strong enough to do this.

It was quick when he came upon the casino. He almost blew completely past it in his efforts to reach it. This was a place that was never somewhere he went on his own so the turn was a little awkward to make. And the drive was busy.

There had been a couple cases that he had been part of in different parts of the building so Nick knew the way to weave around the cars and reach the parking garage all on his own. His fingers tapped the steering wheel as he waited for the car in front of him to collect their ticket so he could get his. The brace arm moved up slowly as Nick inched the truck forward.

Cars drove smoothly on the shiny cement of the parking structure. There were several cars moving back and forth trying to either leave or find somewhere to park. Nick drove straight for the second level and lucked out. An empty spot was waiting for him just over to the left of the level.

The wind was surprisingly strong even with the cement barriers all around him. His hair and clothes were shifted and moved as he walked towards the stairwell. Several women cut in front of him giving him a face full of cheap perfume. One even smile red stained teeth as she scanned him from top to bottom. Nick forced himself to shake it off and follow them down the stairs.

He walked confidently into the casino, eyes scanning the area. The slots were ringing and giving off too many colors at once. It was overwhelming despite the number of times he had entered a casino, whether on his own or for the lab. He never could see the appeal and still didn't really understand everything Warrick had gone through with his addiction.

Nick pushed past a group of young out-of-towners and moved towards the main entrance way. The craps tables were full, people yelling encouragements at the top of their voices. People were slamming hands and drinks down on the velvet tops of the blackjacks tables as hands were tossed back and forth. It was certainly an interesting way to do a people survey or study, that was for sure. But Nick only needed to find one member of the people.

The blonde hair was hard to miss against the off-white paint of the coffee house. Java Coast was an open shop with tall tables and chairs. Kelly was sitting in one of the outer tables, facing directly out into the casino. Her eyes were directed right onto Nick as he made his way over to her.

"Kelly? What happened?" Nick didn't know what else to start this conversation out with, "You came to the crime lab!"

"I know. And you weren't there."

Her voice was tight, cool of any emotion. In fact, her entire face was smooth and clear of anything Nick could use to assess this situation. She didn't look like a person that had just made that call to him and needed his help.

"Yeah, case. What'd you need from me?"

She watched him take a seat in the chair to her right, "Did you get the note?"

"Uh huh. My boss gave it me as soon as I got back. I read it when I got home. But I didn't see anything that needed to be discussed right away," Nick watched his words as much as the girl in front of him as he talked.

"Just wanted to let you know that. I thought…"

Kelly drawled off and lowered her head. Her hands tightened around the tall coffee cup resting on the table top. Nick could see the pale pink nail polish on her longer nails. They were perfectly trimmed.

"Thought what?"

"I thought it was true, ya know. But now, I don't know anymore."

"What happened?"

An explosive breath left her body and she sagged down into the chair, hands white now around the cup, "Too many things. I can't believe it happened the way it did. I never knew! I really didn't!"

Nick's eyes widened at the loss of control Kelly was suddenly having. Her face went pale, eyes shiny as she pleaded with him. Her entire posture screamed confused innocence. Nick didn't really know what to do.

"Kelly, I don't understand what we're talking about here. Can you just tell me?"

Her eyes met his slowly, unsurely, "I did something."

"Alright. Can't really get a lot out of that ya know," Nick tried to smile and ease some of her tension, "So, I really need you to just tell me."

Before he knew what she was doing, Kelly was on her feet and fleeing the coffee house. No one paid her any mind, but Nick almost fell over when he tried to catch up to her. She was almost jogging towards the parking garage doors.

"Kelly! Wait!"

Her blonde hair flew out as she shook her head, but her pace didn't slow down at all, "You have a car here?"

"Yeah, it's out this way," Nick huffed as he finally reached her side.

"We'll need it. I'll take you."

"Where?" Nick reached out and grabbed her arm. "You can tell me what's going on."

Kelly reached back and grabbed the hand holding hers with her free one, "Just drive. I'll show you."

They walked, hand in hand, to where Nick had parked his truck. The stairs had made it hard to keep the contact, but they had somehow managed. She set the pace fast once she saw the CSI unit. Nick held on and tried to get his keys out of his pocket at the same time.

He pushed the button on the remote and unlocked all the doors in one go. Kelly finally let go of his hand and moved quickly to the passenger set. She opened the door and hefted herself up before Nick even had a chance to open his own door.

Nick missed her moving his cell phone. All he could think about was how warm her hand felt in his.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Detective Sam Vega walked with more determination than should have been possible. He should have been ready for his death march on this walk. It was a long way to Jim Brass' office when you knew you were going to die one way or another when passing the door.

There was no yelling to be heard yet, but it could be possible that Brass had killed both Vartann and Curtis already. No one would do a thing to the older man if he already had. Hell, Brass could go off on the entire department and all the mayor would probably do would be to slap him on the wrist.

Another CSI was lost. It made Sam's stomach twist up. He remembered enough about the last times. Everything had been fine then, but a person could only be so lucky. The LVPD had to be owing the magic man soon for all the miracles they already called in.

His feet got heavier, but somehow Sam made it to the closed door of Brass' office. The blinds were down and the door closed. He could almost fell the fires of hell beckoning to him. With a deep breath, the detective reached out and opened the door.

It was deathly quiet inside. All three turned to look at him, but no one said a thing. Vartann had already told everyone over the phone or radio so they all knew what had happened in that Vegas street. But Sam didn't want to have to talk about it now, or ever if he could help it.

He took the only empty chair left in the room. Sitting between the wall and Sophia, he could see the other three clearly. Everyone looked like a dump truck had blindsided them. All were pale and each had pinched faces of anger and concern. It was like before.

"Anyone hear anything yet?" Sam put out softly.

Sophia appeared to curl in upon herself as she heard the question, but was the one to answer it, "Nothing. We've been trying to get in contact with the other CSI's, but having little luck. Greg's with Sara at the lab. Gil and Catherine are at a scene out of city limits and aren't answering their phones. And Nick should be at home, no answer there either."

"Anyone head out to check on them?"

Jim coughed and shifted in his chair a little, "Not yet. I wanted the four of us on this. I'm not taking any chances this time. Each of us gets to watch over the CSI's and help investigate the case. I've already talked with the mayor and Ecklie."

"Who's where?" Vartann looked ready to get out there so he could get things done. He looked guilty though Sam knew he shouldn't. There really wasn't a whole lot he could have done by the sound of things. Now was his chance to fix things and try to make it all whole again.

"I want Sophia to head to the lab, watch over Greg and Sara. Don't let them leave the building until I give you the word. Vartann and Vega, I want you two to find Gil and Catherine. Try to help them move their scenes along faster. I want them back to the lab as soon as possible."

'What about you?" Sophia asked as she got to her feet.

"I'm going to go find Nicky. Boy isn't going to get out of my sights on this one, guarantee it."

No one questioned his decisions to where they were going. Sam knew that Brass was worried most about Nick even though Warrick was the one they had lost. Enough had happened to the Texan over the years and now he lost his best friend, hopefully not forever. But Sam knew Jim would be the best to deal with the younger man.

"Alright people. Get out there. Answer your damn phones when I call! I'll have your asses on platters if you don't. Keep everyone updated and let me know about anything that happens anywhere. We're going to keep this under our control as much as possible this time."

Sam nodded and walked out into the hallway after Sophia. The fires of hell were still on his heels, but he could see the white light on the end of the tunnel. Only had to hope that it didn't mean what the back of his mind kept telling him it was.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Grissom pushed some of the dirt out of the way as he leaned down closer. The smell of decomposition was strong, but he had learned to ignore it over the years. It was nothing to him now. Other than a chance to work and solve a new puzzle.

He squinted his eyes as he looked down into the slight ditch that was by the body of the girl. She hadn't been left in an alley like the other ones. And the girls kept coming quicker and quicker now.

Catherine had called him out to help on this particular body. It was left in a landfill, discovered by a worker as they walked the grounds. The body had the normal markings of the other girls, two gunshots, in the same places.

But the exciting thing about this newest discovery, there were footprints left in the dirt around the body. It was more than they had gotten at any of the other sites. And these two CSI's were going to take everything they got straight to the cleaners on this case.

Something had caught Gil's eye as he moved around the area, sticking out of the dirt. So now he was trying to extract it without causing too much damage to the area, after photos of course. It was some sort of metal.

Gil's lips pursed up in confusion as his brain ran through the different options possible for what type of metal this could be. There was a slight shine to it, but also a dullness that had started around the edges. And it wasn't what one could call a perfect metallic gray.

"What'd you find?"

The voice was sudden and rocked Grissom right from his thoughts, body turning on its heels to the intruder, "Piece of metal, found it in the dirt."

Vartann smiled as he moved closer to the CSI, watching where he was placing his feet in respect to the area Grissom was working in, "Interesting. What does it have to do with this?"

With a small smile and a shrug, Grissom bagged the tiny piece of evidence. He quickly filled out the needed information on the label before turning to the detective that was waiting for an answer. His little grin was still in place.

"Oh, could be nothing, could be everything. You know how it goes. But, I don't know what it is yet. Have to get it back to the lab and have to get some books ready."

"So, the great Gil Grissom is finally stumped on something," Vega chuckled as he took his place next to Vartann, watching the other man with a calculated gaze.

Grissom could feel the tension coming off in large waves. He knew their humor and smiles were being forced to several degrees. And they were watching him very closely. Obviously he was used to it from the job that he had, but this was taking it to a whole new level. They only did this sort of thing when something was wrong.

"What brings you two out here? We already have the officers that we need. Didn't think we needed two detectives on this one."

They both exchanged a look, neither looking happy anymore. Grissom's eyes squinted down even more as he watched their behavior. He may not be a people person, but he knew what to look for in body language. And there was something they didn't want to have to tell him.

"Um, well, you see…" Vega started out, but quickly shot a look over to Vartann who looked as if he were waiting for the world to open up and swallow him whole.

The other detective raised up to his normal height and met Grissom square in the eyes, "We had a scene across town. Same M.O. and everything, except this time the perp was present as well. Just so happens, that's where your guys were going too."

"Which guys?"

"Brown and Sanders. They came to the call we sent out. But…"

Grissom placed his hands on his hips and lowered his chin a little, "But things went wrong?"

"You could say that. The guy was someone Warrick knew. Well, sort of."

It was getting more and more confusing by the minute. Grissom didn't like to play these type of word games and he had to say they were really getting on his nerves with this one.

"Alright, just tell me. What happened?"

Vartann closed his eyes for a second, his shoulders slumped in defeat, "Warrick traded himself with the girl. They both left and we don't know where they went."

Out of everything Grissom had been ready for, this was on the far bottom of the list. It hadn't warranted any attention in his mind in the scenario list. Warrick wasn't someone who got in this kind of trouble. The man was too smooth. These were things saved for others, one other.

"How did he know him?"

"From what happened before with you guys. He was part of the church mess. Knew exactly who Warrick was, asked for him specifically in fact. And Warrick went along with it. I tried to talk him out of it, I really did."

Grissom bent down and began to gather his thoughts under the pretense that he was getting his things together. He had hoped the church fiasco was done, finished. They hadn't gotten much out of it once the bad guys were gone, but there was reason for these men to be back. Especially not now.

"What are you doing?" Vega asked as Grissom stood back up.

A deep frown settled on Grissom's forehead, "Packing up. Heading back to the lab."

"Brass wants you two to finish the scene first. Reason we're here is to help speed it up so we can get moving along. Can't leave this to blow in the wind."

Warring thoughts went off in the CSI's mind. On one hand, he knew he couldn't leave the scene yet. There was a lot to do yet and the girl deserved their best practices and observations. But his other half was worried for his team worker, his friend. It wanted nothing more than to pick up and run out into the streets like death was hot on his tail.

"Is anyone going to keep in touch with either of you, updates and things?"

"Yes, Brass himself," Vartann nodded as he turned to try to find a head of blonde hair.

"You guys tell Catherine yet?"

"No. We wanted you there for when she went off. Figure you can keep her from killing us better than if we were on our own."

The two detectives walked away to where the female CSI was working, steps slow. Grissom raised one eyebrow in shocked question to the comment, but forced himself to follow after them. He needed to be there for someone on his team at least.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It was hard to breathe. Warrick shifted a little, turning his body a little more onto his back. His head ached and something tasted funny in his mouth. A groan was muffled. Something wasn't normal.

Warrick tried to move his hands, but found they couldn't leave the small of his back. The strain in his shoulders suddenly hit him and forced his eyes to fly open. It was nothing, but black darkness.

His tongue couldn't seem to work. He flexed his lips, only to encounter something. The taste was strong, along with some smell. It was all too overpowering. And he couldn't see what he needed or wanted to.

Panic flared in his entire body forcing him to kick out with his legs and shift around on his shoulders. His biceps screamed at the pull as he forced his arms under the full weight of his torso. Breathing got even harder.

Slamming his eyes shut against the opposing darkness, Warrick counted quickly to ten, then slowly a second time. It gave him something to focus on. Something that calmed him down enough to attempt to assess his predicament.

There was something tied across his mouth, the large knot digging into the back of his skull. And whatever it was, didn't taste all that clean. The cloth bag over his head didn't help matters since the smell was trapped right into his nostrils.

He was tied up, gagged and hooded. All he could remember was following Shaun to that van and seeing that face that haunted his dreams at night. Now, he couldn't see anything and had to admit, Warrick was scared.

It was quiet wherever he was. Nothing was moving, not even the sound of a slight breeze. There was a dampness in the air, almost like a thick humidity. But the temperature was almost borderline chilly. It was somewhere Warrick knew he would never vacation given the choice in the matter.

Finally getting his body's reactions under control, Warrick tried to think of things he could do to get out. He twisted his hands and wrists as much as he could, but there was no give in whatever was holding his hands. Kicking out his feet didn't meet any surfaces. And he couldn't even think of calling out for any help.

He didn't know how long he lay there, thinking of anything that might work. Warrick barely heard the opening of a door. But he did feel the hands that reached down and forced him to his feet.

TBC…


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Head's up on this chapter. This is where we're really going to get off from the season as we knew it. Having some fun with it and making it work. Hope everyone likes the new twists on it. Thanks for my couple of reviewers on the last chapter. Good to know you're still here with me. But I have to say, poor Warrick! No one seemed to concerned about our dear CSI. Only Nick and he wasn't even in any trouble…yet, interesting I must say. So, let's find out some more of what's going on! See ya next time!

**Chapter 16:**

**_Because I could not stop for Death,  
He kindly stopped for me.  
The Carriage held but just ourselves  
And Immortality  
Emily Dickinson_**

present_…_

Another day had come and gone. Nick was going out of his mind. Writing was consuming his entire life it seemed. No matter what was going on around him, all he could think about was what he could be or should be writing in that damn journal.

Here he was, trying to enjoy a day out with the guys, but couldn't get his mind away from the hidden desk in the sanctuary of his bedroom. After all the time he had been forced to spend there, he had been sure he would have never wanted to voluntarily stay in his house anymore. But this was too distracting out here, in the real world.

Warrick and Greg walked ahead of him, pointing a stuff they saw in the various window displays. The youngest CSI claimed he needed some new work clothes and enlisted the other two for their help. It was meant to help, get the two out of their respective houses since they weren't cleared for work just yet. Nick just didn't seem to be up to it no matter how hard he tried.

It was a popular part of town for both outsiders and natives so there were a lot of people milling around. A pair of flustered young people chased after their two young children into one of the candy stores that was present. Nick felt himself smile a little at the display, remembering times when he had done the same thing to his own parents.

He was barely prepared for when Warrick and Greg finally turned into a store. Nick didn't bother looking at the name since he really didn't plan on buying anything. His mind was still stuck back in the casino parking garage with Kelly as his passenger.

They had been taken to a large clothing store from the look of things once Nick got fully inside the building. It always amazed him how many shirts and pants could be possible in one place like that. Maybe he was too southern or something, but he didn't see the need to own so many different things of the same thing. Some jeans, some t-shirts, sweatshirts were just great. Of course, he had finer things ready for those events outside the house and the occasional suit for appearances in court.

Greg immediately bee-lined it for a large display of jeans. There were six different varieties set up, each with its own mannequin and sign of description. It was almost overwhelming to the laidback Texan.

"You should get those."

Nick startled and looked at Greg's expectant eyes, "Huh?"

"You should get those jeans there. And you should try a darker color, not black though."

"Alright Martha Stewart. Didn't know you suddenly became the teacher in jeans."

"Oh give the little guy a break, man," Warrick walked over with a smile, "He's just trying to infect you with his taste. Fortunately, we've become immune to it over the years."

"Ha ha, I forgot to laugh," Greg scowled as he turned back to the denims in front of him.

Nick shook his head and wandered off after Warrick. The taller man was walking towards the men's shirt section. In hindsight, Nick would come to regret this decision more than staying in denim world with Greg.

"Hey, this is a nice shirt," Warrick pulled a hanger off the rack and held up a blue silk shirt. The man didn't even bother looking at the price, just the size.

Feeling bored, Nick let his eyes drift to other areas of the store. There were a lot of younger shoppers, mostly couples. No one older than them was there, not even as workers. Nick suddenly felt ancient and uncomfortable. He shifted a little closer to Warrick who stopped to look at him.

Warrick thought quickly and disguised his real concern at the action, "Hey, what do you think of this?"

Blinking quickly Nick looked back at the shirt Warrick was holding up, "Not too bad. Out of my price range though."

"Bah, nothing is out of your range if you don't let it. Just need to improve your style, bro and you'll be wearing the finest cottons and silks in all the world."

Nick rolled his eyes as he watched Warrick smirk at him. He knew the other man was trying to rile him into talking about whatever was bothering him. They hadn't been best friends for no reason.

"No thanks. Basic cotton works just fine. Covers the body and that's all I need."

"Covers it and makes you look like a complete bum. You know, the ladies would have more fun with you if you dressed the part better."

"Oh, and what part would that be?"

"The one of respectable, suave Texan. You got the accent and the charm down, but the clothes, dude, you're hurting there."

Chuckling, Nick shook his head and looked Warrick straight in the eye. For a flash, the store was gone, the laughter was gone. All that was left was darkness, fear, and screams. It forced Nick to shiver a little.

"Nick?"

In a whirlwind of colors and sound, the store was back with Warrick looking straight at him with pure calculation, "Oh yeah, sorry. Been thinking about a lot of stuff lately. Must be finally getting to me."

"Yeah, sure," But Warrick sounded far from sure, "How about you pick something out here and then we'll go get the wild child from over there. I could go for some food."

"But I don't need any new clothes. And besides, I can't be spending this kind of money on leave. Need that overtime to afford stuff like this."

Warrick plastered the smile back on his face and picked up a red shirt in the same make as the blue one, "Alright, suit yourself. I'll go pay and you go get Greg."

"Sure thing, boss," Nick nodded and walked back over to the wall of denim. Greg was no where to be found. Turning in a slow circle, Nick took in every inch of the store he could see without having to move. A frown formed as irrational panic swelled up.

It was something he had been fighting for a long time since the last time. If someone was missing or out of his sights for too long, Nick found himself having a panic attack from worry about that person. No one else knew about this new little problem. It was his own and that's how it was going to stay.

A second spin proved that Greg wasn't where he could see him, but he could see Warrick up in the check out line. Part of his heart didn't have to beat quite as hard anymore since he knew someone else in the area. He wasn't totally alone.

"Greg?" It was quiet, meant only for the area around him. A young blonde turned to look at him, but didn't do more than stare for a moment. She had more important things to do than look at the panicking man in the jeans department.

His breathing was getting harsher, jumpier. Sweat broke out across his forehead and upper lip. Another spin, but still nothing.

Nick tried to tell himself it was okay, it was a store. There were several places Greg could be. But it wouldn't quite about whether or not he was there under his own power, if he had chosen to go somewhere else.

The blonde girl looked at him again and all he could see was Kelly looking back at him. Her face was pale and void. Blonde tresses were limp and greasy. Neither eye showed signs of life.

A hand fell on his right shoulder and Nick almost collapsed to the ground under its weight. But his knees locked up and his hands curled into fists. A person was moving around him, coming to the front side of his body.

"Nick? Where's Warrick?" Greg asked, not even dreaming about what was happening in Nick's mind.

The sight of the younger man, whole and unharmed almost was enough to explode his racing heart from out of his chest. Everything crashed into him. Nick couldn't believe what he had been thinking. Of course Greg was okay.

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he was finally about to get words behind the motions, "He…he's in the line. Where were you?"

"Dressing room. Had to try these jeans on to see if they would fit. Never owned a pair in this cut so I wanted to make sure. Hey, you okay?"

Nick wiped a hand across his lips trying to remove some of the signs of his panic, "Yeah, just couldn't figure out where you ran off to in this place. Warrick wants to go get some food."

He really hoped he sounded as calm and smooth out loud as he did in his head. From the slight frowning of Greg's face, Nick knew he hadn't been totally successful.

"Sure thing. I gotta go purchase these and we can be off," Greg gave one more look before moving towards the end of the line, right behind Warrick.

The shorter CSI leaned towards Warrick, mouth moving. But Nick was too far away to hear what they were saying about him. He did catch the looks they threw his way.

Nick shook his head and headed for the door. He would wait for them outside. They could have their discussion behind his back without having to worry about him walking over. And maybe his hands would dry by the time they came out.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Like the clothing store, the restaurant was busy. They had been stupid and let Greg pick the place they were to eat. It was one of those places that was a mesh of everything; you could get almost everything you wanted. But as it came with such things, it wasn't always wise to actually get anything too odd there. Food poisoning could be a real bitch.

Nick munched on the fries that came with his burger, not really tasting anything that went down. They had been faking conversation since they got there, but so far, nothing too exciting came up. All in all, it was about as awkward as the three of them could get.

Greg focused solely on his meal, adding in a few words here and there as he went along, but nothing substantial. His eyes flickered around, taking in the other two. He was a little worried about Nick since his freak out in the clothing store. When he had come back to that section, he had come across an extremely confused CSI. And the response to everything didn't make him feel any better.

He didn't know if he should bring it up now or tell Warrick on his own later. Nick might not appreciate being the center of attention once again. It happened too much and Greg couldn't bring himself to do it to his friend. So, he kept his thoughts to himself.

They were all on autopilot and it was beginning to piss Warrick off. He knew he had missed something by the looks Greg was giving to Nick and the looks Nick was giving the floor. And he really didn't like being out of any loops. It was just something that didn't work for the taller CSI.

"So, when's your provisionary test Nick?"

"I dunno. I've got to get signed off by the doc and have Ecklie say it's alright for me to start getting back into work. Could be awhile knowing my luck."

"Nah, you'll get back in, just fine," Greg managed to mumble out around a mouthful of food.

Warrick cringed at the sight, "Gross, man. Just gross. You're momma teach you that one?"

"Sure did. It's how we did it back out in California. You'd be jealous and so out of place if you went there."

"No problems then. Never planning to go there."

"Oh, but Warrick," Nick tried to smirk in his old way, "If we lock Greg up here, maybe then it'll be alright since he won't be there to dumb down the entire state. They'll still be civilized for us."

"Hey, you're on to something with that one!"

Greg faked laughed and rolled his eyes, "Good one. Must have killed a few brain cells coming up with that stuff."

"But it was worth it. Have to admit," Warrick leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together in his lap.

"Whatever lets you guys sleep at night. I'll just ignore you and it won't matter anyways."

Nick laughed, "What? Are you two in kindergarten or something? Should I go get the teacher?"

"Only if she is wearing a short skirt and has smooth skin," Warrick added his own laugh in.

All three couldn't help, but to laugh now. They had gone from awkward sentences to complete stupidity in no time. And now they were talking about teachers.

"Now 'Rick," Nick pointed his finger at the taller man, "What would Tina saw about something like that? I could tell her and we could find out if you wanted."

"Yeah and you open your mouth on that one Tex, and you'll be eating out of a straw for the rest of your life."

"Tina wouldn't let you hurt a hair on the top of my head. I'm her favorite after all. She would defend me first over you."

"Oh and don't I know it. Woman is married to me, but she would lay her life down for you first. Thinking I got ripped somewhere along the way."

"Nick's just better looking than you," Greg coughed out.

"At least we know you're no competition for anything with us Greggo. You would have problems getting a toad even if you worked at it."

None cared about the looks they were getting from the other patrons of the place. They were having fun and finally were back into that ease that was so natural. Nick could feel himself getting less tense, forgetting about the thoughts that had plagued him before in the clothing store. He would worry more about that when he got back home, to where his journal was.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Sixty two days earlier_…_

They wound their way through several streets, passing by many buildings that Nick was sure he had never seen before. It was a part of town that the rich and educated lived in. Large buildings with door watchmen and drivers if they were so inclined. It was one of the parts of Vegas that many people didn't know or see when they came on the tours.

Kelly methodically told him where to turn, what to look for as they went along. It wasn't hard, but Nick didn't like not knowing their destination. But he was willing to play along. Something about Kelly was bothering him and he wanted to know what it was.

"Turn into here," Kelly pointed to a parking structure, much like the one they had just left, but not quite as tall.

Nick turned the wheel and lined the front end of the truck up with the gate arm. Some sensor sensed the vehicle, but he still had to talk to the security guard that was waiting in his little booth. The man looked bored and as if he hadn't left that glass cell in a few long hours.

"What can I help you with?" his deep voiced rumbled.

Turning to look at Kelly, Nick couldn't think of what to say, "Uh…"

But Kelly was quick with it and leaned her small torso across his lap so she was able to see the guard more clearly, "We're here to see Mrs. Mullins. Family friend and she asked me to come here."

"Oh, alright. Go on up."

The arm lifted and the truck slipped under with ease. Nick followed Kelly's finger as they went up to the third level. It was darker as they went; several of the lights weren't working. He turned on the headlights without much thought on the matter.

"Where are we going? Who's this person we're going to see?" Nick couldn't keep quite any longer as they headed to the back of the third level.

Kelly simply nodded her head forward, "Just up there. By the black car."

There was no room to park next to the black BMW so Nick pulled into a spot across the way from the car. He looked over at Kelly, but she was getting out on her side without another word. Nick huffed and got himself out, walking quickly to meet up with Kelly in the back.

But he was brought up short. Now he could see the BMW better, even with the extremely poor lighting going on up there. Slowly he walked so he was more on the driver's side of the black car. The driver's side door was wide open and he could tell the airbag had been deployed.

Nobody was in the front seat. No, the person was in front of the car, crushed up against the wall. The woman was pale from blood loss, pooling from her upper body. She was most certainly dead.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I didn't really know what happened."

Her voice was calm, almost cold like it was when they were back in the café. Kelly looked straight at Nick as she spoke, keeping him grounded where he was.

"When?"

"Before I called you. I came to talk to her. She wasn't supposed to get in the way. She wasn't supposed to get anything. It got out of hand."

"But the guard!"

"He was asleep the first time I got here. Didn't see me come in or leave. Hell, didn't hear the crash. Was dead to the world when I walked away to call you."

"Why'd you do this?"

Kelly sneered and started to pace in small circles, "She wasn't supposed to have anything to do with it. He was supposed to get the money for me, not her. It wasn't what I wanted. I needed to take care of this, but it all got out of hand."

Taking a deep breath, Nick forced his body to move forward. His hand trembled a little as he reached towards the body, towards the neck. Pressing his two main fingers to the woman's throat, Nick checked for the pulse he knew wouldn't be there. But he had to make sure.

"She's dead."

"I know, I did it. I killed her," Kelly tightened the steps she was taking.

"You hit her with her own car! In the garage that she parks in."

"Yes! Geez, I thought it was your job to not ask stupid questions. I killed her. I already said that. We've established that fact."

Nick didn't know what to think anymore. He knew he needed to all someone. Needed to apprehend Kelly so she could be taken in for this murder. But he was really disappointed that this had happened with her. She was supposed to let it all go when she go out. Now, she was a killer like her father tried to be.

"I need to call this in."

"You will, just not yet," Kelly moved a few steps away before planting her feet into the cement of the parking garage.

"Not yet?" Nick didn't know what to make of that response, "This needs to go in now. There is no waiting on something like this. Kelly, you need to give yourself up."

He took a couple of steps towards her, but she continued to move back so he was farther than arm's length from her body. Nick gave up and moved towards his truck, where he knew his cell phone was. This would be called in with or without her help.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to get my phone. It's my responsibility to turn this scene over to the police," Nick opened the passenger door of his truck and leaned his head forward.

"It's not there."

His back straightened and his eyes were a little wide as he looked at the blonde woman, "How do you know?"

In her raised hand, his cell phone was being kept. Nick turned his head a little to the right in his confusion. Never had he seen her touch his phone when they were in the vehicle. He didn't understand how she had gotten a hold of it.

Kelly looked at the clock on the front panel of the phone, "Less than a minute now. And you'll have your phone back. I promise."

"Why'd you take it in the first place? Hell, when did you take it?"

"It's not important. There are other things you need to worry about more now. I had nothing to do with it. Remember that. I didn't plan it to be like this."

"Kelly, you really need to tell me what's going on. This isn't helping anyone, these games. Just be honest and tell me!"

The phone went off in her hand. Kelly once again checked the front panel, a sad smile coming across her lips. She flipped the phone open and raised it to her ear. Her eyes never left Nick's confused face as she did it. For only a moment did she listen to whatever was going on over that line.

"It's for you."

Nick walked forward slowly, hand reaching out to take the phone, 'What's going on Kelly?"

"I didn't plan for this to happen this way. It wasn't supposed to go like this. I wanted to let it all go. I wanted to get away!"

Her desperation was thick, but Nick was sure it was real. But he also wanted to get his phone back in his hand where it belonged. He would deal with Kelly once that was done.

"I'm sorry Nick," Kelly whispered before their hands met for the exchange. Her hand wasn't warm anymore. It was freezing.

Nick kept his eyes on her as he got ready to talk to whoever had called him, "Stokes."

There was heavy breathing, harsh with pain. No voice came through and Nick lowered his head, plugging his other ear to get a better hold on the sounds. A cough echoed through and there was a groan. Nick knew that tenor tone. But he wasn't going to jump to any conclusions.

"Hello? Who's there?"

A deep breath was taken, another groan. This time the person on the other end managed to get a word out, "Ni…ick…"

"Warrick! What the hell!" Nick suddenly felt as if the world had just come crashing down on him. He knew that was his friend. And that wasn't how that man was supposed to sound over the phone.

There was a crashing noise from the other end and Nick pressed the phone harder into his head. Something was happening to Warrick, causing him pain. Nick could hear the struggle his brother was having not to yell out.

"Warrick! Where are you!"

There was no answer. Just heavy breathing. Nick lifted his head to look at Kelly. He watched as she shot herself in the head. Her blood was warm where it washed against his face.

TBC…


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Alright, another chapter I don't really like, but felt it necessary to do. Hope you all like it. For those Warrick fans, this one is for you! Not that I'm sure y'all will be too happy about it. But, we get a little farther, a little deeper. More steps upon steps. Hope you all enjoy! Review and let me know. See ya later.

**Chapter 17:**

_**"Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is."  
---- German Proverb **_

Sixty two days earlier, the lost man_…_

The hands pulled at his arms, the hood. A smelly palm smashed his nose back into his head, plastering his dark flesh hard across his features under the hood. It made it all hard to breathe, but he wouldn't let them onto that fact. Fuck that idea.

Warrick tried to toss his head away from the hand, but there was another there, slapping the back of his skull. His teeth clanked together the best they could around the cloth in his mouth. A dull thudding was taking up residence in his brain under the assault. And it was pissing him off that he couldn't see where he was being taken to.

His feet were forced to move, take steps. They led him to where they wanted, nothing he could do about it. But he could feel that the temperature was getting cooler the farther they lead him. Warrick couldn't tell if it had been the length of a room or a football field. All he knew is that he wasn't happy about this, one bit.

Two large hands pressed down on his shoulders, causing his knees to buckle out from underneath him. Warrick clenched his teeth around the gag, trying to pierce the cloth with his teeth. It was an odd sensation, falling backwards without sight and muffled sound.

The back of his thighs hit the chair hard. His body weight caused it to rock onto the two back legs for a moment, almost sending him to the ground when it corrected itself. More hands held him into place. Something wrapped around his chest, tight enough to keep him from fully expanding his lungs. But the hood was ripped off his head with little fashion.

Green eyes were quickly covered by lids at the bright light they were suddenly exposed to. Warrick groaned the best he could at the painful sensation. There was still too much brightness even behind the closed lids. His pupils were fighting for the correct dilation for opening.

He cracked them, holding in his moan as he tried to adjust enough to be able to see. It took awhile, too long for his liking before he was able to make anything out in the room. And he could now see the two very large lights pointed right in his direction. Warrick couldn't see much past their strong bulbs.

Both were set up by a steel stand. It was a hazy gray around them, but he could make out large shapes moving in the shadows. And from what had happened just moments earlier, they were part of the hands that had mauled him into this room. Warrick really didn't want to see the faces that went along with them.

A black blob moved in quickly to his left. Before he could stop himself, Warrick jerked strongly to the right. Noises sounded, much like laughter, but he didn't allow much thought on that. He was too busy trying to make out whatever it was the moved at him.

Warrick should have known that Shaun would have to show his face like that, white smile reflecting the light. It was enough proof for the CSI to say the man had a bad experience with at home tooth whiteners. No one should have teeth that could act like reflectors.

Shaun leaned down, enough that Warrick could feel his sticky breath on his cheek, "So CSI boy. Wha' ya gonna do this time? Huh? No one to save ya."

The man reached over with his hand and before Warrick could even think to move, it was smashed across his face. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out who had done it earlier. But now Warrick could feel the sweat, smell something was close to a really bad mold problem. He gagged the best he could around his gag.

"Yeah, I could kill ya like this! You'd die with my big hand right in your face. I could think of another way to suffocate ya, but the boss has issues with that sort of thing. But maybe…once the boss has what he wants, I'll get something for m'self. Ya like that idea?"

Warrick stiffened once he realized what the other man was saying. It was two things in that little speech that scared him. First, yeah the idea of what else the man wanted to use to take away his air supply was troubling him. Only a few things that could do such a thing and from the sound of that gravely voice, Warrick could think of one thing for certain.

But the second thing was about the boss. And from what he could remember of that old bastard, Warrick knew what he would want. There was no way in hell he would give that man what he wanted.

"Now, I'm gonna take that gag out of your mouth. You speak, I get to beat on ya. Your choice on that matter, boy."

Shaun pulled his hand away from Warrick's face slowly, fingers lingering a little too long on his flesh. The man leered at him as he worked his thick fingers between the cloth of the gag and his skin. Warrick gladly opened his mouth to have the gag removed.

His mouth was sticky as he smacked his tongue against the surface of his teeth. There was a film across his lips, making them tight. Saliva seemed to be a foreign concept, hard to produce. Warrick coughed a little, head dropping forward to help shield his eyes a little from the bright lights.

"Ah, I don't think the CSI can take it," Shaun laughed as he slapped Warrick hard on his left shoulder. The wall of a man walked off, out of sight behind the lights.

Not heeding any warning that he was given, Warrick began to speak, "Who the hell? Where are we?"

"So may questions, Mr. Brown. You of all people should know those aren't necessary here. You'll learn everything that is needed in enough time. I don't understand the point in having to speed it up. All in due time."

"Fuck you," Warrick snarled at that voice that he wanted to forget so long ago.

"Even alone you show no fear," the voice moved closer, "But you're not what I want. And I have a feeling you understand that fact. Of course, I won't pass up on serving you with the justice you got out of."

"Still screwing around with your stupid gods? Or did you finally figure out your full of complete shit?"

"Oh, there are bigger things out there than you and I, but I must admit. This has little to do with them anymore. Now, it's a lot more personal."

The shape got closer and Warrick had to blink a couple of times, but Jacob Tenner looked pretty much the same now as back then. There was a lot more gray in the brown hair and a few more wrinkles etched into his face, but the craziness was the same.

"You and I have a destiny, Mr. Brown. It would be easier if you would just accept it and stop fighting me. I will win in the end."

"Oh, and what end will that be?"

"Your death of course. But not first. Never first. I have another I want to humble to his knees to me before you. You're too strong with him around anyways."

Warrick snarled at the man, pulling his weight against his restraints, "You'll never get him. He won't come here for you."

"Oh, not me," Tenner smiled and leaned back on his heels, "But for you, I'm sure he'll come running as fast as his feet will carry him."

"I won't give him to you. You'll have to kill me before I allow you to touch him again."

"You think I want to touch him? Oh no. Shaun would be more interested in that. I just want to kill him. Simple."

Tenner watched the man's features. He could see the fear, the anger behind those green eyes. Warrick's pupils were swollen, but not enough that Tenner couldn't see the threat being given to him. But he would have what he wanted. No one would get in his way.

"You'll bring him here. He will come, for you."

The CSI turned his chin up in defiance, glaring the best he could in his half state of blindness. He could see people moving around more as his eyes got more and more adjusted to their latest conditions. Warrick could only watch as the smile on Tenner's face got bigger.

"You think I can't get you to call him?"

"No I don't. I won't call him. You won't have him. Might as well kill me first."

"I'll make you take that back and more. You'll be sorry, Mr. Brown. It could have been simple. But you made it hard. You have no one to blame except for yourself," Tenner grinned as he stepped back to allow the four other men to step forward. And the old man really couldn't tell what glinted from the lights in two of the men's hands.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The trace lab was slow. No one was bringing him anything new to work on. There were plenty of cases going on, but nothing new to work with. Graveyard was officially dismantled.

David Hodges sighed and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. The steel table under his elbow felt cool through the cloth of his shirt, but he paid it little mind. His eyes were watching any and all movement that was occurring out in the hallway. From what he heard, Catherine and Grissom were yet to arrive since the information of Warrick missing got out.

Ecklie walked past the open trace door, "Nothing to do?"

"Oh always something to do. Just have to wait for the CSI's to bring me something new," Hodges mumbled.

"I'm sure dayshift left you something. Just because the night crew is not currently working doesn't mean there isn't left to solve."

"No doubt about that," Hodges shifted up, straightening out his back, "But I would like to keep an empty basket for anything that might come in about the whereabouts of Warrick."

Ecklie frowned and turned to walk away, "Yes, because heaven forbid the rest of us move on because of his stupid actions.

It took all his power not to respond to that as the director of the lab walked away. Hodges could have jumped all over that one, taking the man to the cleaners. Everyone was well aware of what Ecklie had done with that girl, with the personal information of the lab. No one would hold Ecklie clean from this if something horrible did happen.

Smacking his lips together, Hodges turned in his chair to look for something he might be able to go over for a third time. But the movement in the hallway caught his attention. Grissom and Catherine were back in the building. And they didn't look happy one bit.

Hodges kept himself in the room, mouth closed. Neither CSI glanced at him as the walked past the door. And he didn't try to get any of their attention. Now wasn't a time to be a kiss ass.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Captain Brass parked his sedan in the quiet driveway. Glancing up and down the street, he was well aware of what a quiet neighborhood this was. Nick had done well for himself by moving into this area. Even after what Crane had done to him hadn't forced the younger man to move away from this.

On the way over, Jim had tried to call Nick, but didn't have any luck getting an answer. Nothing went through on the cell phone and he got the voice box on the home phone. It didn't really worry him. Nick had been sent home to rest. Turning off the phones was the best way to help that goal.

The windows were closed off by blinds and curtains. Jim couldn't see in as he walked towards the front door. He frowned at the large key pad for the top of line security that was installed. It was almost scary because it was true proof on how safe Nick needed to feel in his own home.

His knuckles rapped hard against the wooden door. Jim had to tell himself not to hop from foot to foot like a little kid as he waited. Knowing that Nick's room wasn't that close to the door and the man might be asleep, Jim knew to wait for a little bit.

Ten seconds seemed to be enough time to wait and Jim was pounding on the door a little harder. Heaving a breath, Jim leaned closer to the door, "Nick? You in there?"

It was too much time. Nick might be asleep, but he was never this slow before. Jim decided to move his pounding to the back door.

The grass crunched under his feet as he moved quickly around the corner of the house. He could see the cement patio, without anything on it other than a large grill. True man's backyard. And the door closer to the man's bedroom was back here.

Jim reached it and pounded straight onto the glass, "Nick! Hey, wake up."

He tried to squint through the blinds, but couldn't see anything except darkness. No lights were on that he could tell. And there weren't any sounds of movement.

Thinking quickly to himself, Jim tried to remember if Nick had a spare key hidden somewhere. He was sure Warrick would know, but that didn't do him any good right then. Turning his head slowly to the right, Jim tried to look for something that a key might be under, in. His lips turned down as he tried to figure it out.

His phone going off stopped any more of his thoughts.

"Brass."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Spitting out blood, Warrick shook his head to try to clear it. Things just got foggier. A groan escaped his lips and a tear slipped past his tightly closed eyelids.

"This didn't have to be this way," the voice was gentle, concerned, "All I need you to do is call him."

A finger touched his cheek, tracing the line that the tear took down to the corner of his mouth. He tried to pull away, but it caused his brain to swell even more against the bone of his skull. Tenner was almost caressing his cheek. It was unnerving.

"He can end all this pain for you. Just call him and talk to him."

"No," Warrick gasped out past his split lips. His entire upper body was on fire, face almost numb. They had worked hard on him with fists and some blunt object that he couldn't name. He was almost certain he had a couple of bruised ribs.

Tenner slapped the injured cheek harshly, "Why do you fight this? There is no reason for it."

"He's my brother. I won't do it," Warrick threatened as best he could in his condition. It hurt, but he would fight these bastards until the end if he had to.

"I'm going to get him with or without your help, Mr. Brown. You make me go after him on my own, I'm going to bring him back here and destroy him for your personal entertainment," Tenner almost seemed to purr in delight at the prospect, "And then I'll simply kill you when I'm done with him. You really want to watch him break and crumble? Or would you be kind enough to offer him a quicker death?"

More blood welled up under his tongue from some cut or loose tooth. Spitting it out, Warrick continued to shake his head. There was no deal in this he was going to take.

A hand gripped his chin hard, twisting up his jaw, "I only have a few more minutes. Then, I'm going to make that call to his cell phone from yours. Either you talk to him or I'll send someone to kill your wife. Your choice."

Warrick's head snapped up at the announcement of his wife. Anger swelled in his chest at the threat. These people shouldn't even know who Tina was. She was supposed to be safe from things like this.

"Stay away from her."

"I wouldn't have a problem leaving her completely alone. She is of little interest to me. But, if you're unwilling to cooperate, then…" Tenner just shrugged his shoulders a little.

"Why did you come back?"

A small smirk caused even more wrinkles to form around Tenner's mouth, "I've never been good at leaving unfinished business. And a former partner gave me a few pieces of information that was almost too good to be true. So, I came back. You just happened to walk right into my hands."

"I didn't walk to you at all," Warrick snarled.

"No, you didn't. But Shaun made a mistake. And instead of following procedure, he brought you here. Since it works out for the positive, he won't be made to suffer. You on the other hand…"

The older man turned to his left wrist and looked at his watch. A few glances and hand gestures were made, but Warrick couldn't follow any of them. The lights were beginning to melt his eyes and it was getting harder to really see anything more than a foot away from his face. Lines were getting fuzzy and the floor sloped downward.

Another pat on his cheek brought his attention back to Tenner, "Now, we're going to make the call. He's with a friend so things should work out just fine. All you need to do is talk to him. Nothing more. I'll answer his questions. You ready?"

Warrick wanted to protest when his cell phone was flipped open in Tenner's hand. He didn't remember when the man took it from him, but figured it mattered little. All he knew was the man was hunting for Nick's phone number.

"Ah, there he is. I'm sure you have him on speed dial, but I don't mind looking a little farther for it. Hm, two numbers. All I need is his cell phone."

A couple of finger pushes and Tenner was raising the phone up to his ear. Warrick couldn't describe the emotions that were welling up in his stomach. He knew fear, anger, and panic was present, but none were able to take the lead. It made him feel even sicker.

"Ah, its ringing. Good sign," Tenner nodded at Warrick as if they were old friends.

It was clear the other line was connected and there was a small, quick conversation. And from the control Tenner had in his voice, he wasn't talking with Nick.

"…Alright sweetheart, let me have him. You know what you have to do."

Something was wrong. This wasn't how kidnappers got their victims.

Tenner placed the phone against Warrick's cheek, "Speak to him. Let him know it's you. I'll do the rest."

Anything he was able to say to the man in front of him was cut off by that familiar voice coming through the phone, "Stokes."

Warrick's throat closed up, only heavy breaths escaping. His chest seemed to tighten and strain against his flesh. A cough erupted, causing him to groan out his pain. Nick was still there and very concerned by the sound of it.

"Hello? Who's there?"

His green eyes turned up to look at Tenner. The man was waiting to see what he was going to do. Warrick didn't know what to do. He didn't want this man to know about anything, to get anyone. Tina and Nick didn't need to go through this.

A punch came out of nowhere to the back of his head. Warrick drew in a quick breath, letting out another groan. Another punch came. His brain went blank, only the thought that Nick was close. Another hit, lower, more painful. Nick would help him.

"Ni…ick…" came without his permission against yet another hit to his tender head.

"Warrick! What the hell!"

The CSI shook his head, several tears running down his cheeks. His lips were pressed tight together. He knew he had made a mistake. Now he was going to see the consequences for it. Warrick wanted to scream, but didn't dare.

Two large shadows moved in. More hands were back. The rope around his body was gone and he was thrown forward onto the floor. Now the booted feet could get at him too. In the haze, he could see the phone was being held in his direction. Nick would hear it all.

"Warrick! Where are you?" Nick almost seemed to scream through the phone at him.

His harsh breathing came almost in gasps as the punishment stopped for a moment. They wanted him to be able to hear what was coming next. And he sure heard it clearly. That gunshot stopped his heart.

"Nick!"

Tenner smiled down at him, waving the other men to continue. Through the hail storm of fists and feet, Warrick could see Tenner take the phone and walk away. He couldn't see much, but he knew he had just handed Nick over to them.

There was no way in hell Nick was going to stay away now, that's if he wasn't already dead. Tenner had said someone was already with his friend. It was possible it was almost all over. He had heard the shot go off. Nick's head could have been the target. Warrick let himself fall under the pain they were giving him. Panic ate him alive along with the darkness.

All he heard was Tenner, "Now onto destiny…"

TBC…


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **I really wanted to get this out over the weekend, but of course, my internet didn't want to work with me. But, here it is, better late than never. Hope everyone enjoyed their Labor Day weekend if you're in the U.S. And if you're not, hope you still enjoyed your weekend as well. Glad to hear everyone is still liking the story. Going to be a long one! Yeah, longer than even I planned on. And as ever, review and say hi. Be back with more soon! Bye!

**Chapter 18:**

_**You can discover what your enemy fears most by observing the means he uses to frighten you.**_

_**Eric Hoffer (1902 - 1983) **_

_There were only a few things that used to be able to surprise me beyond words. It was those simple, kid things. Well, until age nine. Then a few more came into play, but nothing about what I fear now. _

_What I fear now could make Hitler scream and cry. Well, maybe not, but sounded good. I always want to sound smart, but I guess sometimes it can be made out to sounding stupid. Grissom would have raised an eyebrow at that one in question on my sanity._

_But, that moment…I really guess words are hard to put to it. It's been awhile since it happened and I'm sure I've changed a few things here and there. Kind of necessary if I want to stay asleep longer than ten minutes._

_Warrick was always a statue of strength to me. He rarely let his emotions get away from him. Sure, we fought and bitched a lot at each other, but that's what brothers do. Nothing big. It was those other moments, like after they freed me from my coffin that scared me the most. _

_So, hearing him across the line in so much pain, losing control, I admit I was freaked out. It wasn't how Warrick was supposed to be. He was supposed to be strong, a pillar of manhood. That call made him sound like a lost child. Someone I didn't even know._

_And of course, Kelly just had to kill herself in front of me at the same time. Talk about a soul buster. I don't know of many people that would have handled it any better than me. Especially right after another person killing themselves in front of me, on that damn highway._

_Well, maybe Grissom. He would probably mention how the blood splatter fell at a precise angle to form some bug shape on the cement instead of what I did. _

_Have I mentioned that I hate bugs?_

_Looking back, my actions to that call were out in left park. I was really glad no one could see me at that moment. Though, oh yeah, there was a video camera in the corner of the garage looking down on what was going on. Caught on candid camera once again. My luck._

_Though, I guess I did what could be said as correct. I did lose contact with the only source to my brother. But, it all worked out in the end. _

_Didn't it?_

_!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+_

The blood was warm as it ran down into the corners of his mouth. It always looked so thick, but it ran smoothly over the pores of his face. Like little streams of mortality. Nick didn't know what to do.

It almost seemed to be in super slow motion. Kelly's body didn't really drop to the ground. Her limbs twisted and turned in a perverse erotic dance as gravity took its course. She rolled backwards, what remained of her head connecting with a clear snap. Both eyes were closed. There was less blonde hair to spread out against the grayness of the cement.

Nick could feel his body begin to tremble, his knees went weak. Everything around him seemed to focus on the dead body in front of him, nothing else mattered. Kelly had brought him here. She killed herself in front of him before he could even blink or comprehend what she was about to do. Two suicides in too little time were too much for his brain to think through.

He could feel something in his hand, knew it was important in some way. A distant sound told him to pay attention to it. But all he could hear was the gunshot. All he could feel were the small trails of blood on his face. The dripping from his chin to his shirt almost seemed to weigh his torso down too much.

She had brought him here. Just so she could show him what she had done. And to show him what she wanted to do to herself. So he was now there wearing her death. Nick lost his gag reflux. Bile rose in his throat and Nick turned his head to the side as he bent in half. He vomited onto the floor of the parking garage, white and yellow splatters.

His hands clutched at his knees as he tried to stay on his feet. Distantly he had heard the thunking of the object he held in his hand, but closed his eyes against everything. His ears hummed and hissed. Everything was wrong.

A noise, almost like a mosquito buzzing finally caught enough of his attention for Nick to attempt to clear out his ears. There was a voice. Distant, but there. His eyes slowly opened and Nick looked down at the ground by his feet. The phone almost seemed to smile at him.

Nick prayed that he wouldn't fall as he reached down for the thin machine. It slipped from his fingers twice before he was able to fully grasp it. The weight was enormous and almost painful. But someone was calling to him through it.

The cool plastic crushed his ear as he tried to focus on the person. He remembered Warrick from earlier on this, "Warrick?"

"Not quite, Mr. Stokes. He is currently taking a nap. But, you can come see him. In fact, I would love for you to come see him."

His blood turned to ice, frozen to his vessel walls. Breathing became harder, vice grips on both of his lungs. Nick body began to work completely independently from his brain. His hand took charge of the battle.

Before he could even begin to think about it, his hand slammed the phone closed. Nick's wide eyes tried to focus on the phone in his hand. It was almost as if he was waiting for it to reach out and attack him. He quickly realized why there looked to be three different phones. His hand was shaking that hard.

But he quickly thought of what he had just done, "Fuck! Stupid!"

Nick screamed out, tension heavy in his voice. He had hung up on the one connection to Warrick. No matter how painful if had been to hear that voice, he should have listened. But no, he hung up. Like a complete and utter moron.

Quickly, he flipped it back open and his fingers dove in to check over his menu. Nick found the received calls section and looked at the data. The last number that had called him was restricted. No way to get it now, without the help of super Archie,

Taking a deep breath and trying to clear his head, Nick attempted to think of something to do. There had to be a way to get that phone number. Or maybe that voice would call back and yell something at him. Maybe he already killed Warrick.

Suddenly that was all he could see in his mind. Warrick having his head shot off like Kelly had just done to her own. His brains would be like strawberry ice cream with pink swirls of brain all over the floor. And Nick would have to pick them up and put them all in individual little baggies.

Nick suddenly gagged again at the thought. This time not just from the images, but from the words that had taken that moment to come out of the locked safe in the back of his memory. It was not something that was supposed to happen.

Another voice entered his head and guided his fingers to the number that would help the most. Well, Nick hoped it would be able to help the most. And it wasn't long before the call was picked up.

"Brass."

"Oh thank god! Jim, I need help."

"Nicky! Where the hell are you? I'm at your house, but you're not here. Where the hell are you?"

His heart felt like it was trying to break out of his chest. Someone he trusted was on the phone with him. Brass would know what to do. The detective always knew what to do.

"Nicky?"

"Jim…" Nick couldn't suddenly get anything else out of his mouth. His throat closed up and his vision got narrower by the moment. He wanted nothing more to start crying.

It seemed that Brass was able to pick something up from that one word, "Hey, calm down Nicky. Take a deep breath. Just tell me where you are and I'll come to you. No problem."

That made things much better. It wasn't much, but it was more than Nick could have ever asked for from the older man. His throat opened and his thoughts came back together. And somehow Brass was able to understand the address of the garage when he mumbled it off.

"Alright. You sit tight and I'll be right there. Don't worry about it."

"Just hurry," Nick sighed out as the exhaustion and stress finally took their toll, "I'll be waiting."

The phone disconnected and Nick was alone again with the empty garage and the dead girl on the ground in front of him. He suddenly needed to sit down and rest. Nick wobbled his way to the truck and pulled himself into the driver's seat. Looking in the mirrors, he was glad there was nothing he could see from those angles.

His head leaned back against the top of the seat. Both eyes became heavy and fell shut. There was no way he was going to relax any more than that though. Something might happen. And knowing his history, Nick wouldn't have been too surprised if Kelly walked over, brains missing and all, to plant a big kiss right on his lips.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Jim was frantic as he drove the city streets. He had his cell phone in one hand, the police radio in the other. Trying to keep track of what could and should be said on both, he tried to drive. No one would question the city if they took his license away at that display.

But he needed to get to that garage and knew other people would have to be there. He wasn't qualified to administer aid if it was needed. And Brass had no idea what sort of condition the CSI would be in when he got there.

At least he knew Nick was alive. It had been a bigger relief than he thought it would have been. Just more proof that he was in probably too deep with the crime lab. It wasn't something that would work out in the end.

Catherine had answered her phone as soon as he rang. He could have just seen her starring at the phone, waiting for it ring. Everyone would have crowded around her. She would have sighed in relief, probably almost falling out of her chair. They would all be there soon enough as it was.

There was a sharp right turn at a set of stop lights. Jim swore as his sedan shuttered at the sudden action. It held on and nothing happened to anything. The address was getting closer. Only a few more blocks up.

His foot depressed a little more on the accelerator, adding a few more steps of speed to the engine. The car roared in response, but did as he asked. Sweat was collected on his forehead and upper lip, but Jim didn't waste any time or effort on removing it.

The number jumped out at him and slamming on the breaks, Jim swerved his car right up to the guard booth with the arm across the drive. He turned bodily to look at the guard who looked like he had been sleeping.

"Can I help you?" the man asked through a yawn.

"Yeah, you can lift this damn gate and let me in. And I would recommend you do it quickly if you want to keep your job past midnight tonight."

This was enough to wake the man and he bristled at the treatment, "I don't know who you think you are, but you're not my boss. I don't have to let you in."

"Look," Jim wanted nothing more than to pull his gun on the man, but was able to restrain himself enough when he reached for his badge, "I'm Captain Jim Brass with the LVPD. I need to get in this garage now. I have a man on the inside and I need to get to him. It would be best to not ask any more questions."

Looking quickly at the badge, the man nodded and lifted the arm. Jim didn't bother with any other words, just the exhaust from his tailpipe. He gunned it around the curves and turns, all while keeping his eyes open for a familiar truck or person.

He found one at the top level. And what else he saw made him break hard. His body was thrown forward against the seat belt, but Jim barely felt anything from it.

Two dead people. One pinned up by a car, another bloody on the ground. And Nick's CSI truck parked on the other wall. No Nick to be seen.

Jim climbed out of his care, suddenly breathless. He walked quickly towards the truck. Subconsciously he watched where he was walking, but didn't put too much effort in it. His first responsibility was to the people in the scene no matter what was ruined in the process. And being completely bias, Nick was his first concern.

The other man didn't even open his eyes as Jim walked over. But the detective could see movement in his chest and felt better already.

"Nicky?" he asked quietly, but Nick reacted as if he had set off an atomic bomb by his head. The Texan jumped straight up and somehow managed to slam his head into the top of the truck.

"Ahh…" Nick hissed out, hand rising to rest on the top of his hair. He turned to look at the disturbance, eyes wide to make sure it wasn't Kelly looking back at him. A few tears rushed to the surface as he took in Jim's face.

"Jim. You made it."

"Of course kid. Never let ya down," Jim whispered, reaching out to take one of the trembling hands, "What happened Nick?"

Again Nick chocked up as he looked forward through the windshield, "She brought me here. Said…said she had… to show me something. Woman was already dead."

"Who?"

"…Kel..Kelly," Nick sputtered out as he wiped at his face, "Met her. Came here. She…she killed herself!"

Jim turned to look back over his shoulder and suddenly could see Kelly in the corpse on the ground. Her blonde hair was the same as ever even with half of it missing. Several sirens filled the air and Jim knew the squad was almost here. He turned back to the shaken man in front of him.

"Alright. I'm here for you Nicky. The team is coming as well."

It was the wrong thing to say, though Brass couldn't understand why at first. All he could do was squeeze Nick's hand while the CSI gagged and retched. "Hey, its okay. Everything's going to be okay."

Nick shook his head hard, eyes tightly closed, "No, not okay. Warrick is gone. Not okay, not okay."

"How?" Jim was at a loss of words. He didn't know of anyone that would have told Nick, "Who told you?"

"He did," Nick's face suddenly turned harsh and cruel with those two words. It was a look that didn't right in any means on the normally collected man's face.

A truck squealed closer and Jim knew he had only a few more moments alone with Nick, "Who Nicky? Who is he?"

Nick turned cold, hard brown eyes on the detective, "Tenner."

"Nick!"

Two female voices screamed in unison over the sound of opening doors. Jim stepped back and allowed Catherine and Sara to take his place. He watched as Greg ran up only to hop from foot to foot behind the two women, trying to see over them at his friend.

"Jim?" Grissom asked from his spot by the end of the truck.

"He's alright. A little shaken, but he'll be fine."

"What happened here?"

Jim shrugged, lifting his hands, "Hell if I know. Just know Kelly brought him here, killed herself in front of him. And…he knows about Warrick."

Grissom frowned, "You told him?"

"Wish."

It turned uncomfortable between the two. Jim kept his eyes on the ground while Grissom studied the detective the best he could. The lead CSI didn't like how this was going one bit. And there was something Jim wasn't telling him about Nick.

Rolling his eyes and gaining his strength, Jim looked Grissom straight in the eyes, "He got a call. That was how he found out."

"But who would call him? We were all at the lab together. I would have seen if someone made a call to him, heard them talking. No one did."

"It wasn't from the lab. It was an outsider call."

"Enough games Jim. Who was it?"

"Gil, he got a call from Tenner. The man has Warrick again."

If there was a correct response to that question, that wasn't it. Grissom walked around the detective and actually pushed his way through his team to reach Nick. Some emotions got through onto his face as he took in the Texan.

Nick had begun to cry even more under the watch of Catherine and Sara. He was still trembling and was now gasping for small amounts of air. His skin was completely washed out except where blood still clung to him.

Grissom reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for the man. He held it up for a moment, but it was clear Nick didn't notice it. So Grissom leaned forward and pressed the white cloth to the pink on Nick's cheek. It was enough to get Nick to look up at him.

Those brown eyes were filled with fear and confusion behind the tears. Nick was not totally with them anymore. It finally had been too much and the man was beginning to show it. Grissom was now worried Nick was going to pass out on them soon.

"Hold on Nick. We're going to get you some help. Just stay with us," Grissom tried to instruct his CSI as best he could.

Nick's eyes lit up for a moment, "Not for me. Help Warrick. Not me."

His voice got softer with each word and Grissom gripped his shoulder when Nick started to sway. Nick's eyes closed and his body went limp. Grissom laid him down the best he could across the front seat so he couldn't hurt himself.

"We need the paramedics. He needs to be checked."

"Already on their way," Catherine said as she looked around, "What do you want us to do here?"

Taking a deep breath, Grissom looked at the remaining members of his team, "It's a scene. We work it like all the others. And Catherine, I want you to go with Nick so he gets checked out. Don't let him leave until a doctor makes sure he's fine."

Nodding, Catherine took Grissom's place by the unconscious man, "Oh, I'll make sure he doesn't leave without a clean bill of health. Probably nothing, but stress. But better safe than sorry."

Sara and Greg looked undecided about what they wanted to do, but didn't dare say anything about staying with Nick instead of working the scene. Both scattered in different directions, Sara walking to Kelly. Greg didn't mind one bit, heading for the car crashed into the wall and the woman.

Only Jim had the nerve to stay standing next to Grissom, "You sure about this?"

"Only thing we have right now. Nick needs to stay guarded. He isn't to be left alone."

"You think he'll go after Warrick?"

Grissom was silent for a moment, eyes distant, "Or Tenner will get a hold of him by some other means. But Nick won't stay away as long as Warrick is missing. And I won't lose both of them to that man. Not again."

TBC…


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Hey all. Just a quick hi and plead for some reviews. Author is starving for them here! Not a whole lot to say. Just read and enjoy. Bye!

**Chapter 19:**

_**Oh the body swayed to music  
Oh the lightning glance  
If I would give it all and all  
Maybe you would hear me  
Ask for half a chance **_

Hearing only one root note  
Planted firmly in the ground  
Undo my heart, unzip my body and  
Lend to my ear a clear and a deafening sound

Unzip my heart

_**Ramalama (Bang Bang)-Roisin Murphy lyrics**_

No one hung up on him. It didn't matter who it was. Jacob Tenner was someone you didn't mess with in any fashion. And now he was even madder. He just didn't know who he wanted to take it out on more. The man he already held or the man he would soon possess.

He gripped his phone in a white knuckle grip and grinded his teeth together. Shaun watched him from his seat, but knew better than to say anything about what had just happened. The man already knew he had messed up and wasn't someone his boss was happy with anymore.

Tenner didn't know what to do exactly about the situation. Calling Stokes back would show desperation and might make the man stronger against him. But if he didn't, then he might never get a hold of him in a timely manner. It was a move he hadn't been ready for, an unwanted variable in this situation.

Without sparing a glance at Shaun, Tenner stormed off to where Warrick was being held. Someone needed to pay and that moment was just fine to the older man. No one got in his way or even looked at him. His people knew to stay out of trouble when their leader when he was in one of his moods.

Since he had lost the three CSI's the first time around, Tenner had given his life a new direction. He had changed the outlook in things and allowed less room for error. Fear around him had grown and it was like a drug to him. Tenner wanted more. That was one of the reasons he was back to take out his revenge. But this time, it would be bigger. No one would get away this time. Sanity would be begging for release by the time he was done.

The black man was still out of it when Tenner entered the room. No one had tied him up. That made Tenner even madder. Someone had gotten lazy and thought an unconscious man didn't need to be tied up. If one thing was learned, never underestimate these people. They had fooled him once, but never again.

Tenner sneered and threw a kick hard into the CSI's ribcage, "Wake up! Get up!"

It was enough to cause Warrick to groan and roll away from the pain he was receiving. Bright flashes went off behind his eyelids forcing them to open before he could stop himself. All he could see was a cement wall, damp and moldy. Another kick got him to turn and look behind him at what else was going on in the room.

Another groan escaped, but not completely out of pain this time. Warrick had almost hoped that everything had been a dream and Tenner wasn't back. He could have dealt with another nightmare. This truth was almost too much for him.

"Get up!" Tenner barked at him.

Warrick rolled over to his right side, arms braced underneath him. His legs were slow to move, but he finally got onto his knees. With a push, Warrick was standing tall before the older, shorter man.

"Sit in the chair."

Replying with only a questioning smirk, Warrick crossed his free arms across his chest. There was no way he was going to listen to that man, especially when he was free to move around. It wasn't his fault that no one had taken care of such things. He wasn't about to make this simple. Plus, he was the bigger man.

"Oh, you don't think you have to do it? Ah, I see," Tenner taped his fingers against his chin and took another stop closer, "I would highly recommend that you listen to me."

"Yeah, and I'd say I was the mayor of New York if I did. Just cuz you can't get good help doesn't mean I'm going to do as you ask. "

"You think you have nothing to lose, don't you? Hm, interesting."

"I'm here. They know who took me. My coworkers are not slow. They'll figure it all out and be here in no time. We've done it before."

"Oh, and what about your dear friend, Mr. Stokes? You really think he knows what's going on? Or don't you believe he'll be on his way? We did have a nice little talk, that we did," Tenner smirked as he watched the other man react to the lie he was easily telling, "Nice little talk."

Warrick didn't want to believe it, but he remembered that gunshot from over the phone. He really couldn't place anything in what Tenner was telling him with what he sort of knew, but self doubt was a dangerous thing. And, besides, Warrick would always carry enough guilt for the planet when it came to Nick.

"Don't believe me do you? Well, you'll have to wait and see. I know he'll come for you as well as I do."

"No, Nick'll go get help. He won't come here without help. And how do I know you even told him anything he can use?"

"You seem to forget, Mr. Brown. I want him a lot more than I want you. So, why would I not tell him to come for you? He is more important in all of this than you could even begin to figure out."

There was no answer. Tenner smirked even more at the resigned posture the CSI took as he looked down at the floor. He was winning. Nick Stokes would be in his hands soon. No amount of hang ups would stop him from getting what he wanted.

"Now, sit in that chair and I'll let you see your friend when he arrives. Before I kill him of course. Unless you don't want the chance to say good bye of course."

Taking a deep breath, Warrick uncrossed his arms and walked over to the only chair in the room. Anyway this played out; he wasn't going to win this on his own. He just hoped Nick was smart enough not to come here alone. They would both be dead then.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg rubbed at the itch on his nose from his position by the smashed up front tire. It had been almost an hour since Catherine went with Nick to the hospital in the ambulance. No one talked about it. No one talked about Warrick. Not there, not in the crime scene.

He was almost done processing the area so David would be able to take the body. The towing crew was waiting for his okay to move the car back. He was still trying to figure out the best way to do it, with the help of the field coroner. Neither wanted to have to deal with the victim breaking in half.

There had been several fingerprints on the outside of the car. Greg could certainly make out three different ones, but it meant little without identifying them. He didn't have much. The car had been driven. It crashed into the woman, crushing her against the wall. So, he needed the mystery driver.

Feeling suddenly like a first timer, Greg was really unsure of what to do. His mind was pulled in too many different directions for it to focus on one thing only. And his heart really wasn't in finding a suspect. All Greg wanted to do was head to the hospital and be with Nick for a little while.

"You ready?" a feminine voice asked in his ear.

Whipping around, Greg looked into the amused eyes of Sara, "Almost. Just want to be certain."

"Certain of what Greg? If something is going to happen to the body during the move, it's going to happen. Nothing you can do to fix it. Just make sure you document everything before, during, and after."

"Grissom won't be mad if something goes wrong?" Greg asked, full of insecurity.

"No. He'll understand. I mean come on Greg. She is crushed. I'd be more surprised if nothing happened while moving the car back. Just be ready for anything. You're ready to do it."

Sighing, Greg pushed his body upright, "Yeah. I don't know what my problem is. This shouldn't have taken me that long to do."

"It's okay," Sara smiled softly and placed a hand on Greg's shoulder, "Everyone wants the same things. Just have to get through this and do our best. Nick isn't going anywhere and we'll find Warrick."

"You really think Nick isn't going to leave? He talked to someone over the phone. I heard Brass talking to Grissom. Nick knows something about what is going on."

"But remember who is with him. Catherine won't let him take off. She'll tie him to the bed if she has to. He's going to be fine."

The words helped, but not as much as Greg had hoped. He still had bad thoughts about the whole thing. It stilled played in his head, when Warrick walked away with that other man. And now he had Nick passing out from everything to add to it. His two friends were not doing too well.

Looking back down at the hood of the car, Greg knew he needed to allow David to take the body back to the lab. The woman needed to be examined and allowed to be cleaned up. It wasn't right to keep her body here for longer than necessary.

"David, we can move the car now," Greg waved to the bored medical examiner.

"Alright, I'll get the guys ready."

Greg turned to look back at Sara, "You done?"

"No, just wanted to check on you. You had been starring at that tire for a few seconds too long. Thought you might need a kick back into reality."

"Yeah, guess I did. Was beginning to feel like a newbie again. Guys wouldn't let me live it down if they had seen it."

"Oh," Sara smirked, "You think I'm not going to tell them the minute I see them? You would be wrong Sanders."

Any response or defense was cut off by the arrival of the beeping tow truck. Greg just shook his head and grabbed up his camera. He snapped photos of everything the towers did, touched. Looking at name tags and asking questions, Greg took detailed notes of what they were doing. It was time to move the car.

"Alright. Take it slow and if I tell you guys to stop, do it immediately," Greg shouted over all the noise and received nods from everyone.

One of the towers got into the truck, put the vehicle into drive and began to move forward. Groaning and screeching metal hurt Greg's ears, but he kept his hands on his camera, flash going off every few seconds. The car moved a few inches from the cement wall, screaming in protest.

The body jerked and twitched in response to everything. Her head fell forward more, slamming into the hood of the car. Greg winced, but photographed it. The car moved forward even more.

David was waiting to catch the body as it fell, but it moved away from his position. The examiner scrambled, grabbing the woman by the arm, trying to keep her from going too far. It worked to some degree, but as the car kept moving away, a large piece of metal began to remove itself from her abdomen.

"Hey! Stop!"

Hitting the brakes hard, the truck jerked to a spot, break lights blaring red. Greg moved closer and tried to see what had happened. He was beaten by David.

"Seems that a piece of the bumper got twisted up. Pierced her in the stomach. Not going to be prevented."

Greg nodded, "Just let me take some photos."

No one said anything as the CSI moved here and there, flash going off with regularity. The towers looked confused, one grossed out. This wasn't like their normal everyday calls, that was for sure.

Almost finishing, Greg looked up and just happened to look in the area that Brass and Grissom were talking in. The expressions of their faces were far from encouraging. Greg froze and totally forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

"Greg? You ready?" David asked, walking over to the CSI.

"Oh…yeah, sorry. Continue."

Greg tried to keep his attention on the car and the crushed woman. Any other day he might have been fascinated by the fact that her body almost completely bent itself in double without the pressure of the car. It would have been something new for the logs.

But he couldn't bring himself to do more than photograph and make notes. Talking even seemed to be too much now. All he wanted to do was go and listen to what the two older men were talking about. He wanted to know what those looks meant.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"Alright. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then count to three, do it again."

"I've done this four times already. Not really in the mood to keep doing this."

"Just humor me. I was told to make sure everything was okay. And, well, I don't want to have to report to Gil Grissom if something goes wrong."

Nick sighed, "What could go wrong? I just passed out."

"Oh, you passed out alright," Dr. Susan Mercer raised an eyebrow, "From sensory overload and high blood pressure. You sped your heart up too quickly and it didn't allow for your blood to fully oxidize from the stress. Ms. Willows told me a little of what happened."

"So, just give me some more oxygen. Then I can be on my way. I really don't need this thing," Nick mumbled, pulling on the IV needle buried into the back of his hand.

"You were slightly dehydrated upon arrival. Besides, a few doses of some essential vitamins and minerals won't kill you Nick. Just suck it up. You can leave soon. Once I'm done."

"Since when do you take orders from the crime lab?"

Dr. Mercer smiled and moved away from the shirtless man on her table, "Oh, since the first time you arrived to my ER stretched out on a gurney. Got specific orders from about five people on how to treat you. And I really don't want any of them busting in here and yelling at me for something I missed."

"Only Catherine is here now. She can take me home," Nick pleaded as indiscreetly as he could.

"Who do you think led the group into my office that day? Oh, she won't let you leave until every test available is done on you."

Nick harrumphed and leaned back, hands spread out behind him, "Fine. Just how much more blood you gonna take? I need to keep some of it ya know."

"I think you could spare a few more gallons, a strapping young man such as yourself," Dr. Mercer laughed as she began to pack up her supplies.

"You aren't much older than me, Doc."

"No, but still. I'm the doctor and you have to do whatever I tell you. Now, I'm going to take your tests into the lab. You just sit here and be a good boy. I'll get Catherine when everything is ready. She's in the waiting room."

Now it was Nick's turn to laugh, "Bet she's loving that. Probably have a couple nurses ready to tackle her if she moves."

"You got that right. Have all the male nurses ready for her. And somehow, I still think she'd take them all out. Such a said thing for the rest of us if she does. Some of them are not too bad looking," she winked as she walked to the door.

Groaning, Nick shook his head, "Information I really didn't need to know. You can keep them all away from this room."

"No problem there. The women want this room. You should see the battles that go on to be your nurse."

They both laughed. Nick watched as the female doctor left the room, closing the door behind her. The room was chilling and he could feel goose bumps rising over his entire body. Shifting around, Nick located his shirt. He grabbed it up and pulled it over his head quickly. He groaned as the IV tube got all tangled up in the sleeve, but didn't try to fix it.

He sat there, feet swinging in boredom. The heels of his feet tapped against the metal of the medical table. Nick let his eyes scan over the room. It wasn't too different from the last time he had been here. But he hadn't remembered much of his last visit. It was still foggy and probably better that way.

Breathing heavily through his nose, Nick tried to figure out where his boots were. His socks were not the best against the strong air-conditioning that seemed to be in this tiny room. They were standing up underneath the only chair.

Groaning at pains he couldn't understand, Nick shuffled his way to the chair , pulling the rack with him, and fell heavily into it. He groped for the boats, catching both with his fingers. It took longer than it should have to get them onto his feet, but Nick wasn't about to complain. He was just glad he could get them on in the first place.

"Well Stokes. Looks like you outdid yourself this time," Nick's voice echoed around the room.

Nick leaned back against the chair and rested his hands on his thighs. He was tired. The stress had bitten him in the ass and he was still trying to get over it all. And that made him feel bad, guilty and bad.

Here he was. Sitting safe in a hospital room and Warrick was out there, in the hands of that fucked up lunatic. Nick suddenly clenched his teeth and folded his hands up into fists. His eyes flashed with anger and frustration. This was not how it was supposed to be.

Casting a quick glace at the door, Nick tried to make up his mind. He had a battle going on inside his head consisting of two voices, two opinions. And the side that would make everyone else really mad was taking the lead. Nick barely even noticed when he got to his feet.

But he did notice his phone ringing, over on the table.

Nick picked it up and looked at the display. It declared that the call was restricted. And Nick had a pretty good feeling, well bad feeling, on who it could be. Gasping for a lung full of air, Nick answered the call.

"Hello?"

"It isn't polite to hang up on people in the middle of a phone conversation, Mr. Stokes. Didn't your mother teach you better manners than that?"

"What the hell do you want?"

There was a moment of silence before Tenner's sneer came barreling over the phone, "Don't fuck with me boy. You know what I want. I want you to come to me."

"Why?"

"We have unfinished business, you and I. I let this go on for long enough. Should have done it right, myself. Now I have the opportunity."

"Where's Warrick?"

"Oh, he's here with me. Just relaxing and waiting for his best friend to come get him. Would you like to talk to him?"

Nick frowned, "No tricks?"

"Of course not. I'll just hold the phone to his ear. Just a moment…"

He wasn't too sure what to expect. With that man, Nick knew anything was possible. He could be about to listen to Warrick's execution for all he knew. A tremor took control of his bottom lip as he waited, pressing the phone harder to his ear.

"Nick?"

"Warrick? Bro, you okay? Where are you, man?" Nick rushed out on one breath.

"I don't know. They knocked me out. Didn't see shit. And I don't have any windows to use. You okay?"

"Hey, don't worry about me. Just don't let them fuck with you, man."

"Too late for that bro. They got me good. But Nicky, don't come here. Stay away! They want you more than me. Going to kill you! Tell Brass and get the cops involved in…." Warrick's voice suddenly vanished and Nick panicked.

"Hello? Warrick!"

"You two are nothing, but trouble, you know that?" Tenner asked smoothly over the line, "He just doesn't know when to keep quiet and not talk. Same problem you have though to, don't you _Nicky_?"

"What do you want?"

"You, just you."

"Then why did you take Warrick? You could have left him alone."

"I didn't take him, oh no. He willingly came along. Not my doing at all actually. It was a mistake that will work out for the better in no time."

"Where are you?" Nick gripped the phone hard in his hand.

"You are ready to come to me? Ready for this?"

Nick stopped and looked down at the floor. He didn't know what was going to happen and it scared him immensely. After what had happened before, he knew he wouldn't make it out of this alive. Not this time. But he would do whatever he could for Warrick.

"Yes, now where?"

"Are you still with Kelly?"

"No, I was taken to the hospital."

Another pause, "Alright. You get out of there, don't let anyone see you. Talk to no one. Get a vehicle and wait for another call. I'll give you twenty minutes to do this. You fail and there will be consequences for it. You understand?"

"Yeah. Twenty minutes. And you tell me where Warrick is."

"That's the plan. You will follow all my instructions and things will work out just fine. You'll see."

"Yeah right," Nick hung up on the man again. He needed to get moving if he was going to find something he could drive. That might take a long time.

Nick quickly put his phone in his pocket and hunted around for any other of his personal belongings. There wasn't much besides his wallet, all going into his other pocket. Wincing, Nick pulled the tape off the needle in his hand and pulled it out. Carefully he pulled the stuff from out of his shirt and let it hand towards the floor. The small amount of blood was ignored, wiped on his pants. He moved quietly to the door of the room and turned the handle. He poked his head out into the hallway, looking to both sides. There was no one there.

He slipped out the door and made sure it closed softly behind him. Nick took another look to his right before making his way down the hallway to his left. It was a section of the hospital he knew well and how to get around it. All he had to do was make it past the front desk in the ambulance bay. He wouldn't even have to risk Catherine seeing him that way.

The young girl was popping her gum, reading some magazine that he couldn't make out. She glanced at him, but at his smile, she ignored him. Nick walked right out the sliding glass doors without even having to look back.

Knowing there were cameras in this area, Nick kept his head down and moved quickly towards the parking lot. No one in security would know him, but he knew Catherine would be asking for those tapes at one point. He had just created a scene that would be investigated by Vegas' finest.

Nick moved to the street and began to pick up his pace. The crime lab wasn't far. If he had any luck, he could reach it without an incident. He would be able to get in, get a spare set of keys, and be gone before anyone noticed him. That was the plan. And he didn't have much time to do it in.

His feet began to jog. Sweat built up and his breathing got harder. His body was still suffering from his earlier attack. This wasn't the best thing to be doing right then. But he needed to keep moving.

With only six minutes left, Nick arrived at the front doors of the lab. He forced himself to wait outside for a moment in order to catch his breath. Too many people would look at him if he were gasping for air while walking the hallways. There would be some uncomfortable questions to answer then.

No one was in the lobby or the main hall as he entered. Nick moved quickly, head down again, through the hall towards the vehicle lock box. He literally ran past the trace lab without even looking in to see if Hodges was there or not.

The steel box was outside Ecklie's office and the door was closed. Luck was on his side so far. Nick opened it and grabbed up the first set of keys he saw. He closed the box and began to make his way back out of the lab. No one even talked to him, no hellos of anything.

Nick got outside again and moved over to the extra CSI trucks. He pressed down on the unlocking button on the remote to see which one he picked. The Ford F150 flashed its lights at him. Nick smiled and moved over to the vehicle.

Climbing in, Nick put the keys into the ignition. He happened to look out the passenger side window as he did so. Nick threw his body down onto the seat at the sight of Brass' Magnum sedan. Peeking up just enough, Nick watched it move around the building and out of his sight.

Quickly, Nick got the truck going and moved to leave the lot. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror to see if Brass had seen him. So far, so good. Nick drove away, trying to find a safe place to wait out the next two minutes. He was too far to be seen and taken back now.

TBC…


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Flashback of a different kind in this chapter. It hopefully is pretty clear (look for the italics!). Oh, and we get a couple different people's views in this one. Almost didn't include something I know people are dying for in at the end of this chapter, but decided I'd be semi-nice. Thanks to everyone for reviewing the last chapter. I guess saying you're starving helps things along! smiles sweetly Enjoy the read and see ya next time.

**Chapter 20:**

_**The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; **_

_**not knowing what comes next.**_

_**Ursula K. LeGuin**_

Blonde hair always looked odd on the steel table, washed out in a pinkish tone of death. No matter whether the woman was a natural blonde or one that had to use dyes against the sands of time, it turned out the same. Limp and dull when there was nothing to nourish it. And nourishment was basically non-existent in the body now.

She had never been what one would have called a beautiful, perfect woman. Time had taken its toll and punished her for all the wrongdoings whether past or predicted. Prison could affect the physical person as much as the emotional and mental. And just over three years seemed to be enough.

Dr. Albert Robbins simply looked down, only his eyes moving over the corpse. He had never met her, only heard of her. From the descriptions he had heard from the people walking around in the lab, she should have been uglier than a snapping turtle and just as vicious. Seems that personality and persona could mess with the appearance of people. Not a wise tale anymore.

Twisting his head just a little, the coroner looked down at her hands. He had just finished testing for gun powder residue. The gun had been held in her hand. Her life was taken under her own power, own thought processes.

Sighing, the man used his cane to help him move over to the far counter top. He needed to get one of the colored poles so he could check the projectory of the bullet. Everything would have to be covered even though he had little doubt on what had happened. Robbins would never believe that Nick would have had anything to do with this.

Ecklie had come right down to his office the moment the body had been brought in. The lab supervisor was trying to gain face and prove that he was just as efficient as everyone else in city works. And as much as Robbins would have loved to, he would never tell the man no. So, here he was, doing something he had done only once before.

"_I heard she arrived?" Conrad Ecklie asked as he pushed his way through the swinging doors of the city morgue. He didn't wait to be asked to enter or for any other questions._

"_Yes, David just got her set up on the gurney. I was about ready to get the preliminary examination done. I don't have a case for you right now Conrad. Is there something I can help you with?"_

"_Yes. I just want to make sure that everything is covered with this case."_

_Robbins frowned and applied more of his weight onto his cane support, "Well of course. I never slack on any case that comes into this room. I will do as I always do when it comes to suicide."_

"_Are you sure it was purely a suicide? We weren't there and there were no witnesses that have come forward yet with the tale of what happened in that parking garage. So, I want this treated as a homicide until you can prove with no doubt that it was a suicide."_

_It was uncommon for the man to come in making directions and announcements like this in Robbins territory. The two had butted head before in the past, but he had thought that was behind them. They had recovered the missing body and had gotten things back together after that case. Robbins thought that would have been enough for Ecklie to respect their work in the lab more. It appeared he was wrong._

"_I'm sorry, but I don't understand. I was told by David that Nick had been present and that this was a suicide. Nick was present for this. He talked with Captain Brass over the phone almost immediately after it happened. And from what I can see, this is a self inflicted gun shot wound."_

"_I wouldn't be surprised if it was all a cover up. This needs to be treated like anything else that comes in here, just as you said. I don't care if a CSI was the primary witness or not. And from what I understand, no statement has been taken officially to begin with."_

_It was enough to make Dr. Robbins mouth to drop open in shock, "You can't be meaning what I think you are?"_

"_Well, Nick does have a record on file as a possible suspect in a previous case, previous homicide," Ecklie moved closer to the table and looked down at the body, "A hooker, someone he was with and he shouldn't have been. And now this. Come on, you can't mean you don't find it a little suspicious."_

"_But she was the one who went to Nick. Not the other way around. And this has nothing to do with what happened to him before."_

"_No?"_

"_No, of course not. Kristy Hopkins was a different story and from what I understand, Nick was friends with her to begin with. This has nothing to do with that. He was cleared of all charges."_

"_With the help of a fellow graveyard CSI. If you ask me, they have been covering up for each other for years. A lot has happened to that unit and yet no one does anything about it."_

"_You broke them up," Robbins pointed out, his frustration mounting higher. He wanted nothing more than to kick the other man from the room and get on with his job._

"_Yeah, and look at what happened then. It is easier to keep them together, easier to keep track of them. But now, I have another mess involving Nick to figure out. We should have let him go the last time."_

_That was all Robbins could take, "So you're telling me you want to me to act like Nick is the suspect and figure out how he forced this to happen?"_

"_I want you to do your job," Ecklie raised his eyebrows at the small declaration, "Like always. Just don't lose sight of things. No matter what, she's dead and I want everything covered. I'll expect the full report on my desk when you're done."_

_The lab supervisor didn't bother to look at the coroner as he turned and headed to the door. Robbins clutched hard at the handle of his cane wanting nothing more than to throw something at Ecklie's head. But he kept his head and his tongue still. It wouldn't help things to egg the man on. He simply watched the door swing shut and turned to the dead girl on the gurney._

He picked the green pole and shuffled back over to the table. The thoughts of what happened still made him upset. But he was determined to make this a shut case of suicide. There would be nothing for Ecklie to even look twice at. And so far, he was well on his way to doing such a thing.

The entry wound for the bullet was clear. There was simple, dark colored hole in the bottom of her chin. It was the exit wound that was hidden from the naked eye. With a great deal of the skull missing, there was no way to tell which hole through the brain tissue might be the exit.

Robbins took a breath and placed one end of the pole into the entry wound. He had to shift it around a little, trying to get to the point where it smoothly would work its way through wrecked flesh and tissue. It didn't take that long before he felt it slip up into the head easily.

Twisting it with a little motion from his wrist, Robbins worked about three inches of the pole up into the chin. A slight snag and he was on his way. He shifted his body a little so he could see the top of her head better. Pressure from the pole caused the remaining brain tissue to shutter and shift. But it wasn't long before he saw green coming out of the pale pink-brown tissue.

Pushing harder, the pole broke through and Robbins stepped back. About thee inches remained on the outside of both wounds, in the top of the head and the chin. It was an odd angle, one only achieved with close contact or by the very person killed.

Grabbing up the camera, Robbins snapped a few photos and made a few notes on his legal pad. He knew the video camera had picked up the entire procedure, but he could never be too careful with something like this. And this was a suicide.

For the sake of the cameras and recorders in the room, "I have just determined the projectory of the bullet, from under the chin. It shows clear sighs of self infliction due to the angle and extent of the track."

There was a sound behind him, at the swinging door. Robbins bit into his tongue and continued to write something in his notes. If it was Ecklie, he wasn't ready to present anything. And he wasn't about to begin any conversation with that man anyways.

"How's it going, Doc?" Grissom's voice moved closer with each word.

"I've just about finished. Clear signs of suicide unless you have something else for me. I have done all the tests required for proving it and would like to get started on other things that need to be done. I have David starting on the other body that came in."

Grissom moved to the other side of the table and looked grimly down at the woman who had just caused more trouble in his life, "Yeah. I need them both done as soon as possible. Either might hold the answer to why Nick was really there in that parking structure. We haven't been able to talk with him yet, though Catherine will be in that room as soon as she can be."

"Has anyone talked to her yet? Do we know anything about what has happened to him?"

"Well, she did call and said the doctor wasn't too worried. Just an overload. They were going to look him over, get some fluids in. Should be no problem. I'm having her bring him back here if they let him go."

"That's good, he shouldn't be alone right now. He needs some support for all of this. I can't imagine how this is affecting him."

"No, me either," Grissom sighed and looked like he wished he were talking about something else at that moment, like cockroaches.

Robbins made a point to stop asking about Nick and continued to do his work on the body. He wanted to get this done. As badly as it sounded, he was sick of looking at her.

"Wait," Grissom asked suddenly, "Why were you worried about signs of suicide? Nick told Brass that she killed herself and it looks pretty clear that she did so. Why the extra work?"

"I was asked to do it," Robbins shifted uncomfortably, hoping for a miracle involving Grissom letting it go. No such luck.

"From who?"

"Ecklie."

Both men remained quiet, searching the eyes of the other. And Robbins could see how angry it made Grissom to think about Ecklie getting involved in this. He waited for the lead CSI to make the first move on this.

"He isn't in charge of this case. There was no reason for him to be down here."

"He's the head of the lab, Gil. Technically he can go anywhere he wants to."

Grissom frowned deeper, "But why this? Did he really think Nick had anything to do with this?"

"Well, he did mention what happened before, with Kristy Hopkins. He just wanted everything to be clear and have no doubts on what happened here. As much as I hate to say it, he was right. Now no one can say Nick had anything to do with her putting the bullet through her head."

"No, but it was unfair to do. Nick shouldn't have to be held up to that anymore. He had proven himself beyond it," Grissom ground out. He was angry at the accusations against his CSI.

Again, both men were quiet. Neither bothered to looked up when the doors swung again, the familiar sounds of another gurney entering. David didn't say a word as he got ready to move the other body to the other table in the room. It was time for her to be opened up now.

"I'm going to go find Jim. We have some more work to do. Then I want to get over to the hospital if Nick and Catherine don't leave there first," Grissom shifted away from the table slowly, almost glaring down at Kelly, the woman who had done so much to the lab even without her full knowledge of most of it.

"Alright. I have to give Ecklie a copy of the report as well, just so you know."

"Yeah, figures. Just get it to me when you can. Can't move along with too much more until we talk to Nicky about what happened," Grissom reached out his right hand to the door.

It swung inward, almost hitting the CSI. Grissom's eyes were wide in surprise as he looked at the latest person to enter the room. He saw a very unhappy police detective.

"You turn your phone off or something?" Brass barked out.

"No. What happened, Jim? You look flustered."

"Oh, you would be too if you just got off the phone with Catherine. Seems Nick got out of the hospital without anyone seeing him. No one knows where he is. Adds to a perfect time, no?"

Robbins watched both men run from his morgue. He exchanged a look with David, but both men knew there was little they could do about it. All they could do to help would be to get these two bodies ready and done with. It didn't seem to be much, but it was needed.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where the waiting room to the E.R. was. All Sophia Curtis had to do was follow the angry voice of one Catherine Willows. Shaking her head with a small grin on her lips, the detective dared to enter the room.

The blonde CSI stood next to a nervous looking doctor, with several nurses running to and fro around them. And it wasn't long before said CSI saw Sophia and turned her wrath upon her. The voice of reckoning was loud in that seemingly tiny room.

"I want this place searched. He couldn't have gotten far. Right?" Catherine walked right up, nose to nose with Sophia., "And I want it done now. No waiting, no damn coffee breaks."

"Well, his room wasn't all that far from the doors. And with only one person in the hallway, the girl at the desk, I'd have to say it could be very possible."

"Not the answer I was looking for, Curtis. Try again."

Sophia rolled her eyes and took a step to the left, "Yeah, well. You were the one here, not me. I really don't have a whole lot to offer you. But I will do my best with what I have to work with."

"Oh," Catherine looked as if she were ready to burst, "This your search now? The cops are going to do their jobs all of a sudden? Wow. Maybe if you would have been doing them before none of this would have ever happened. Maybe nothing would have happened ever! Seems to me that my guys keep getting in these situations due to your shitty police work!"

It was getting out of hand and quickly. Sophia wasn't going to hold it against Catherine, but neither was she going to sit there and get hammered on over this. Doing such a think wouldn't help get Nick or Warrick back any sooner.

"Look Catherine, I know you're upset. But you and I have to work together on this one if we want to get anywhere with it. I need you to tell me what you know so far and then we can work from there."

Catherine looked like she wanted to argue, throw more jabs at the other woman, but then thought better of it. Her shoulders slumped and her face aged ten years in a matter of seconds. Taking a deep breath and composing herself, Catherine looked straight in Sophia's eyes.

"I was out here, waiting like I was told to do. Next thing I know, nurse comes running through looking for the doctor, something about a missing patient. And, thinking as I'm sure any of us would, I went to the room I was told Nick was in. All that was left was a leaking IV setup. No Nick."

"You didn't see him?"

"Only when we first got here. I talked to the doctor a little in here, but that was it. Just waiting and reading four month old magazines."

"So," Sophia turned in a tight circle, "Only two ways to those rooms. Through here and the main entrance to the emergency area, by the ambulance bay. Has to be the way he got out. You know if they have cameras around this place?"

"Well, we can ask the doctor. Dr. Mercer was working with him. Went to get some of his tests through when he left. She said he looked tired, not really aware of what was going on when she left. No idea what would have caused his sudden leaving."

Sophia nodded and looked towards the tiny, yet determined doctor. The woman seemed to be in control of things even with a missing patient. Walking slowly towards her, Sophia was well aware that Catherine was right behind her.

"Excuse me, Dr. Mercer? I'm Detective Curtis with the LVPD. You were working with Mr. Stokes?"

"Yes, he's one of my regulars sadly enough. I was just gone for about ten minutes when the nurse came to find me. I really don't know of anything that would have made him leave like that. He really seemed okay to be alone for a few minutes."

"So he didn't say anything to you? About finding Warrick or anything along those lines?"

"He talked, nothing I could really figure all out. When he first got here he wasn't totally with it. Kept talking about blood, bullets, and missing persons. And I never did really pry when he was clearer. I knew a little of what had happened after talking with Ms. Willows though."

"Do you have cameras set up around this area?" Sophia asked looking at the ceilings in the waiting room.

"Of course. In fact, we have three just in the ambulance bay. There are two outside and one on the inside, just over the desk. All three would have picked him up leaving if he went that way."

"I'm going to need to see the video surveillance room," Sophia met the doctor's eyesight, "And to talk with the person sitting at the desk at the time."

"No problem. I'll help you all with it myself. Pending nothing happens with any of my patients of course."

"Any help you can offer is great. We can get started right away. Going to help Catherine?"

The blonde CSI nodded and followed the other two women, "Nothing else I can really do yet. I have to wait to hear from Grissom. I called and told Brass what had happened."

"Yeah, he called and told me to get over here as soon as I could. I have to get something to tell him or I think I'll be looking for a new job tomorrow," Sophia mumbled as she walked along, no humor in her voice.

Catherine nodded, but watched the lines of the tiles as they moved, "I just want to know where Nick and Warrick are. Nothing else matters."

The weight of the world was suddenly in that hallway, upon three women. And each walked heavily, trying to see the good, the hope in all of it. For one, it was almost gone and she didn't know what she would do if it were gone forever.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

He could hear the sirens from where he was waiting. Nick slouched down in the seat, keeping his head well under the top of the headrest. The truck was hidden in a full parking lot, away from the main entrance of the store. It wouldn't be too easy to see. Bad thing was that it wasn't too far from the lab. But Nick hadn't wanted to drive along on the streets too long out of fear of being spotted.

The phone rested between his right palm and his jittery leg. His heel couldn't seem to stay on the floor of the truck. It kept bouncing up and down, faster than his heartbeat which at the time seemed impossible.

Sweat was running from his pores, his free hand constantly brushing at his face. He could feel a slight heat coming from his skin, but Nick didn't pay it any mind. And he completely ignored the tremor that had taken over his entire body. It was clear he shouldn't have left the hospital.

A car parked into the spot across the way. Nick homed in on it and watched the driver very carefully. It was a young woman, dressed in jeans and extremely high heels. Odd place to be meeting a date, no less picking up a guy. Nick bobbed his facial expression up and down before looking out the side window.

Sniffling a little, Nick let his eyes roam around from car to car. Tenner hadn't said about sending someone out to get him, but he wouldn't put anything past that man. For all Nick knew, there were like five guys tailing him and watching his every move. And that did nothing for his already frayed nerves.

Trying to swallow the little saliva he had, Nick looked back down at the phone. For the hundredth time since he parked thirty seconds ago, he checked to make sure the phone was on, battery charged, and that he had a full connection. And as the previous time, everything was fine. But there was still that tiny paranoia that the phone wouldn't work when he needed it to.

Nick tried to will it ring. He had only about a minute left to wait, but he was really hoping that Tenner would call before the time said. Though, the man would probably know exactly how Nick would react and was making this go on for as long as possible. Just enough to make Nick feel like he was losing it.

His brown eyes watched the seconds count down. The time was up. Tenner should be calling and giving out his directions. Nick held up the phone, ready to flip it open on the ring.

Nothing.

Nick frowned, "Come on asshole. Time's up."

Still nothing. No sound, no lights lit up on the phone. Stillness.

"Call."

Silence.

"Call, damnit!"

Fifteen seconds over the time. Nothing.

"Call," Nick screamed down at the phone, losing whatever he gathered to deal with Tenner.

The phone didn't respond.

Nick's breathing accelerated, more sweat running down his face. His hand shook harshly, the phone going along with it. It was almost to the point where he was sure his heart would pound right out of his chest. Sounds were nothing compared to that pounding.

Silence.

"Please ring," Nick's voice took on a pleading quality, fear taking over. He was going to lose Warrick. Tenner was going to take his brother away. It was as good as over.

Nothing.

A sob began to work its way through his throat, demanding to be released, "Don't do this. Please ring. Don't do this to me. To him."

More seconds ticked off. Forty-five seconds past the time.

Nick slammed his hand, phone included, hard down into his leg, anger rushing to the surface, "Ring you fucker!"

One minute past time.

The phone rang.

It was sudden. Nick wasn't ready for it. His emotions had taken over, losing everything for him. The phone was almost a battle for him now. Nick managed to fumble it open.

"Hello?" Nick chocked out, not as strong as he wanted it to be.

Only a one word reply, "Worried?"

"You're over the time, you asshole! I did as you asked and you called late!"

"You sound worried Nick," Tenner purred through the line, "Only a minute and you lose control. I should have waited even longer. Probably would have gotten you to cry if I did."

"Just tell me where to go, please," Nick didn't care if it sounded like begging to the other man. He was done playing games.

"Alright. Since you seem so eager to get back together with your friends. I can do that. Now, where are you?"

Nick barely registered getting the words out of his mouth. He tried to collect himself, but couldn't seem to do it. His nerves were shot, his body not taking too much more. The Texan was going to snap if any more pressure was applied. He couldn't do this for much longer.

"You need to leave there. Leave the lot, take a left on the main road. You drive and I'll tell you what to do. Make any signs to anyone else, or if anyone is with you, I'll kill him. You'll lose this and then you'll lose your life. You understand?'

"Yes," Nick breathed out, defeat dripping off the one word.

"Good. Soon, we'll be back together. I don't know about you, but I'm very excited about this. It'll be the biggest moment in destiny to come to pass. You should consider yourself very lucky Nick. You're about to make cosmic history."

TBC…


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **This chapter just seemed to write itself. Still trying to figure out where it came from, but I guess I'm not going to fight the thought process on this thing. Hope it works with the story as it's going. Kind of nervous about this one. Yeah, maybe a lot nervous about this one. I can only wish what I have coming up will come so easily. That would be most awesome. And as always, let me know what you think of this latest….mess of thoughts. Need to hear from you guys. It's like a drug! Have a good weekend! Bye!

**Chapter 21:**

_**Choose  
The single clenched fist lifted and ready,  
Or the open hand held out and waiting.  
Choose:  
For we meet by one or the other.**_

_**-Carl Sandburg**_

_His voice could have worked as Santa Claus. He could have worn the suit, the beard, even the hat. The kids would have line up to sit on his lap, tell their dreams for impressive gifts for the upcoming season. He could have made people smile and laugh._

_But he was determined to get screams, fear. If he would have had his choice, children probably wouldn't exist. They would be locked up, or worse, killed. He didn't love anything other than himself. I've been told there is no such thing as being born evil, that it is just a myth, but this guy, yeah, I'd buy it._

_The crap about his gods was nothing, but lies. He spoke a great deal about them, but I doubt even he knew where he was going with it. This second time around, he seemed to have left most of that behind him. There were mentions, yes, but nothing like before. New levels were discovered this time around._

_Now it was all about destiny and history. It almost seemed to be like the sick version of Achilles if you ask me. Man didn't know what he wanted other than to have to his name written in blood on every stone on the planet. Glory was his new pedestal, his new worship._

_I never got it. Never, in all that time. It was something I couldn't grasp. I guess I shouldn't want to figure it out, might make things harder some would say. But, well, I think it would help._

_If I knew what was really leading him to this shit, then maybe I could get over it more. Instead I write in the journal about the things that happened to me. The stuff that should be locked away. Nice little pen marks, nice neat little lines. All that shit rolled into one._

_At least my stomach only churns occasionally as I'm doing this now. It's an improvement from before. But I gotta say, still impressed I'm even doing this. A week ago, I would have laughed in your face if you mentioned to me that I'd be doing this._

_We're getting into the hard, heavy stuff now._

_This is almost the middle. Almost to what I feared to do earlier. I have checked the pill content. I think I can make it through this. Thought, I'm sure it's going to take a few sittings to make it work. And I have to get to the doctor's again. Should get a cookie for all my good effort I've made._

_All I can say about that one is "yay!"_

_Maybe I should just stop here. Not go on anymore. I don't know if I have the energy to do it anymore. It doesn't matter that I won't share this with anyone. I don't think I even want to share it with myself._

_I can lie about it. No one needs to know. Lying won't hurt. Not in this case._

_Sometimes the past is best left in the past. Somebody said that at some time, I'm sure of it. But I really don't have the time or patience to care to look it up. If I'm stealing it, sorry. No mean to take great words and make them my own. I have enough trouble as it is without that on top of everything._

_Do I really want to go on? Hell no!_

_Now that I'm this far, I don't really get why I'm doing this. Doubt is here in full swing. I can't tell if this is helping or forcing me at have an ulcer. Wouldn't be surprised if I have to be locked up when it's all said and done. _

_I'd swallow the key._

_This is the stuff that nightmares are made out of. If you want to scare a kid from going out after curfew just tell them this story. Tell them Santa Claus will take you and your best friend to the brink of hell and back. They won't do anything wrong ever again with that deep in their thoughts._

_I bet Steven King or Dean Koontz could make it sound all romantic. Well, as romantic as horror can be. I guess what I mean to say is they could make it sound good. Make it sound like a horror that would never come true. _

_All I do is scare myself. Facts are facts and they will follow me to my grave. This middle stuff, well, shit…. I really don't know anymore._

_Can I really do this? Can I relive this part of it all?_

_The stuff I've already done? Well, that was easy actually. Would seem hard, but it really wasn't. Sure I got emotionally beat up. I almost lost it more times then I could count. Cried more tears than I've been used to when I'm not in any sort of physical pain. And nothing made sense._

_We lost a lot along the way at the end of the beginning there. Hell, the cases were almost secondary to what was happening to us. Sad to say, but justice went on the backburner for personal reasons. Should be put on trial for not doing our jobs in the right way. Somehow it could be obstruction. Sure some lawyer would jump all over it if given the chance._

_But, well, it all comes together. Like a good little story, things fall in their places. The nightmare has to complete itself somehow. And what's a nightmare without several freights, right?_

_I know when I used to like Halloween, the more scare for your buck was what you wanted. If they didn't go much, too little blood, too little jumps, you wanted your money back. Same with this one. I paid with more than paper currency though. _

_I paid with soul currency._

_And I guess, I got more than my money's worth. I got a whole lot of extra baggage that they really could take back. Not needed here. I have stuff already stuffed away in my attic. No thanks._

_I'm stalling, aren't I?_

_But who cares. What, is Mead going to jump through and kick my ass for it? Yeah, now that I'd pay to see. Someone jumping out of the notebook to kick my ass for not wanting to get into the middle. _

_Hell, who said a story needs a middle anyways._

_Only person I can think of would be my ninth grade English teacher. And seeing the fact that I went into chemistry and then law. English wasn't high on my list of cares. So, I really don't think I need to follow the conventional order for a story. _

_I could skip the middle. I could get to the end, to where I am now. It's not so bad now. I can deal with now. Nothing unexpected in the right now at least._

_Seeing the fact that I don't have to share this, I could do it. I could. No one would yell or tell me what a bad thing it is. No grade needed. No need to type it up, twelve font, one inch margins on all sides. No points off for grammar._

_Yeah. I could skip it. I can move on. No need. No need for a middle._

_Skip it!_

!#$&()!#$&()!$#&()+

present_…_

Nick pushed himself away from his desk. He looked over at the clock, frowning at the time. Seems like he would lose himself in this journal every time. It was late. Later than he had been ready for. But he had to admit, sleep was the farthest thing on his mind.

He was at the hard part of his story telling. This was where he didn't think he would be able to make it. And it was making him a little queasy.

Thinking about it, Nick went over to his closet and selected a few things. He changed into the sweatpants and the t-shirt. His mind needed to be cleared out. Nick needed some time to think through some of the stuff, see what he could really remember or not.

The house was quiet, a few lights on of course. Nick moved with some ease, walking over to one of the drawers in his kitchen. It slid open without a creak. This was his version of a handyman's hideout in the kitchen. But Nick mainly wanted to the large flashlight.

With a push on the switch, the tiny bulb lit up. The batteries were good. Nick had just replaced them the night before. He would be good. Only planned on being out for a few minutes anyways.

Nick grabbed his key chain that held only his house key and let himself out into the night. It was fairly warm, though cool enough to cause a slight chill. Perfect jogging weather.

He locked the door, set the alarm. Nick turned again to face his driveway, arms stretched high above his head. Some pavement pounding was all he needed. And then maybe, maybe he could do some more of this.

Jogging slightly in place, shaking out his arms, Nick breathed deep and steady. He planned his path out in his head. The flashlight lit up the way. It was heavy. Would knock someone out if he were to slam it into their head.

His feet dug down, pushing him off. Nick began to make his way down the driveway. He only slightly hesitated at the end before turning into the street. The street lights watched from above.

It was all quiet. No one was moving. It might be safe.

The constant thudding of his feet on the cement filled his ears. His breathing sped up, making his chest expand to its maximum. And his blood pumped quicker through his veins. Nick could almost feel his body cleaning itself out as he ran.

Thoughts were taken away, put back. All he knew was the street in front of him and the fact that he was alive. This was allowing him to show the world his freedom. Nick Stokes wasn't afraid to run alone in the streets in his neighborhood.

A red truck turned down the street he was currently working on. Without event thinking about it, Nick moved closer to the curb. His hand clutched at the flashlight a little more as the lights approached. The pace of his run dropped, slowing enough so he would be able to charge off in another direction if he really needed to.

The windows were down. There was a arm, a hand resting on the car door. In the street lights, Nick could make out enough of the face to identify the person. The hand lifted, a small wave. Nick nodded his head at his across the street neighbor and picked up his speed again.

_Slap, slap_.

Nick tried to avoid watching the light from the flashlight as it bobbed up and down in front of him. His eyes scanned as much as they could as he covered more ground. The edge of the familiar homes was coming, quickly. Seems he was running faster than he was used to. The sweat running down his back was testament to that.

Two more cars passed him, these people unknown to him. But they ignored him as he tried his hardest to do to them. There were a lot more cars at the last intersection to the neighborhood. Nick stopped for a moment, hands on his knees, panting for air to watch them. None of those people were concerned about anything. Simply driving along like nothing else was going on around them.

For some reason unknown to him, Nick suddenly felt disgusted at them all. None of them knew anything about life and its pains. He was the only one that seemed to have every cruelty known to man on his list. Those cars hid those people from the real world, real life.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Nick placed his hands on his back forcing his spine to arch and stretch. Nick tried to clear his head of those ideas. The people that were to blame weren't in any of those cars. Those people in those cars had their own things to deal with. No point trying to compare apples to oranges on such matters.

The sweat on his body began to evaporate into the night air. His skin began to shiver. Nick turned around and began a brisk jog back in the direction he had come from. Last thing he needed was to get sick on top of everything. Needed to be on the top of his game for all the doctors.

Everything seemed quieter on his way back. The lights in the homes that had been on were now all off. Nick slowed a little and took a better look around him. It was almost as if the world were shutting down and leaving him out on the curb with nothing, but a flashlight.

"You're losing it again, Stokes. Just get your ass home," Nick huffed out between intakes of air.

He finally turned back down his road, feet getting faster without him really thinking about it. As he pounded the road back to his house, Nick could see the truck he had passed parked in the correct driveway. Lights were on in that house.

All the lights were on in his house. For some reason, it brought Nick back to another stop at the end of his driveway. Looking in from that spot, Nick could see light illuminating through almost every available window in the structure.

It looked ridiculous. Nick began to suddenly wonder what everyone thought when they passed his house. If he had become the crazy light guy yet or not. And it wasn't a good thought. People would look. People always looked at things that were different, odd. A house with all its lights on at all hours would be an attention getter.

A sound filled the air. It sounded strange yet so familiar. Nick scrunched up his eyes trying to figure out what it was. It happened again. And this time, he was able to find the origin of it. The noises were his own personal sobs.

Emotions rained down on him as he stood at the end of his driveway. Thoughts he had tried to avoid washed back to the front of his mind. Nick clutched his arms around him, trying to fight the chill without and within. He couldn't do this.

Sprinting up the pavement to his door, Nick fumbled to get his key out of his pocket. The flashlight fell from his hands and began to roll back down the driveway. Nick watched it go, hesitating only for a moment before moving back onto his door. The light would be able to survive the elements of the night a lot better than he would have been able to.

Unsure fingers scrambled to type in the code to his alarm system. Warm tears ran down his cheeks as he tried to make his hands work correctly. Nick couldn't control what his mind was doing. It was not what he wanted. The thoughts were not what he wanted!

_**Suddenly that was all he could see in his mind. Warrick having his head shot off like Kelly had just done to her own. His brains would be like strawberry ice cream with pink swirls of brain all over the floor. And Nick would have to pick them up and put them all in individual little baggies.**_

_**It was dark. No light was able to reach any inch of his body. Nick's mouth opened wide, scream loud to his ears as it echoed around the small room. No one was coming!**_

_**His head blew apart from the impact of the bullet. The gun fell from his hand that had positioned it to his chin. Nick sat frozen, hands sweating on the steering wheel.**_

_**The voice brought him up short. His breathing quickened a little as he pressed the phone tighter to his ear. It didn't seem possible that this was happening. Something was off in the voice, a fear of some sort.**_

_**Pain flared through every fiber of his body. There was only so much he would be able to handle and this seemed to be the limits of it. No amount of pleading or crying was able to make it change. More just kept coming. He had let them down. Nick couldn't do anything for anyone. Ever.**_

_**It was sudden. Nick wasn't ready for it. His emotions had taken over, losing everything for him. The phone was almost a battle for him now. Nick managed to fumble it open.**_

_**He wrestled with the zipper of his case. The bag was getting old and the zipper stuck about half way down. Nick knew he should look into replacing it, but never actually took the time to do it. Grabbing an evidence bag from the inside, he ripped the top of a marker off with his teeth. The shoe fit in just fine, sealed from the night air. Nothing else special to about it to catch his attention.**_

_**The steel was warm in his hands. It had been used. He had seen it. And now, it was his. But in the darkness, there was nothing to aim at. Well…there was one thing.**_

_**He could feel something in his hand, knew it was important in some way. A distant sound told him to pay attention to it. But all he could hear was the gunshot. All he could feel were the small trails of blood on his face. The dripping from his chin to his shirt almost seemed to weigh his torso down too much.**_

His weight fell in through the door, mostly from the quick snap shots flashing across his eyes. Nick landed hard on his knees, grunting from the impact. Loud, keening sobs were escaping now. Pain from inside was taking over. And along with his fear and pain, rage was swelling up as well.

If it wasn't for what that man had done, he wouldn't be like this. Ready to cry and sob at the drop of a hat. Nothing was working. Everything was against him. Nick couldn't see his way out. Even after all the time, the help. There wasn't any way to be free anymore.

Nick crawled into his house more, hands reaching up to enable the locks and security system behind him. No one was going to get into his house, not anywhere close to him. Panic welled up.

A voice from the very back of his mind was trying to scream through the rest of the mess. It was trying to help calm him. Help him to organize his thoughts enough to get someone there. Warrick would be there in a heart beat if Nick asked it of him. But the voice was lost in the waves of torment. There were no breaks on this one.

His feet were unsteady under his weight, but Nick made them work anyways. Anger colored his world red now. Nick's hands clenched, nails digging into his palms. Tears were still running down his face, but he ignored them completely. There was no name for the sounds escaping his throat now.

The battle was still lost, even after all this time. Nick didn't understand that. Everyone said he would be alright. Time would help heal all wounds and all that bullshit. But here he was. Lost in his own house. Nick wanted someone to suffer for it.

All reason was lost in. Nick didn't have any control anymore. He was back, back in that place. And now he was free. No one was in his way. This time, he would break free.

If anyone heard the crashes from inside his house, no one came knocking on the door. Sirens didn't come screaming down the street to stop in front of his driveway. People had turned there backs to the Texan. No one cared that he was destroying anything he could get his hands onto.

Until the first sign of blood. Nick gasped and looked down at his bloody hand. The glass had shattered in his grasp before he even had a chance to get it thrown into the far wall. The weight of the world crashed down onto his shoulders. Nick hit the floor tiles in his kitchen.

His eyes were wide, unfocused. Air gushed in and out of his lungs, almost to the point of hyperventilating. Nick tried to bring himself back under control. He fought everything in the way. It was a hard battle, but he soon was able to focus on the here and now.

Nick looked to his right. His cell phone had been thrown, but he didn't realize that the kitchen had been the spot he was aiming for. Hell, he hadn't even realized he had thrown the damn thing. But it was there. Stretching, Nick grabbed it.

The number went through on speed dial. It wasn't long, "Hello?"

"Warrick?"

"Nick? What's up man? It's late."

A gulp stopped him from responding for a moment, "It's happening again."

"Shit. You okay?"

The sobs were coming back, "No."

"Alright. You stay put. You're at home right?"

"Mm hm."

"Don't move. I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay together bro. I'll be there."

"Okay. Hurry, please."

"Trust me Nicky. It'll be okay."

"Never okay," Nick hung up the phone. He let it drop to the floor. His body slanted sideways. Glass crushed under his body, but Nick didn't care. The ending was all he wanted now. Again.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The ground underneath him didn't hurt anymore. It was soft. Nick sighed and turned his cheek deeper into the plushy feeling. And his skin was warm again. It was almost peaceful.

"You awake yet, man?"

A deep tenor drifted to his ears. Nick's face frowned and he shifted deeper into the warmth. Something heavy was now on his shoulder, but it wasn't scary. It was reassuring. Nick murmured something into the softness.

"Nick. I need you to wake up. Still have to make sure you're okay. I think I got your hand cleaned up fairly well, but just want to make sure. Wake up for me, bro."

A slight shake came now. Nick groaned and tried to turn away from it. Whatever it was persisted and the shaking got a little harder. There was no way he could ignore it anymore.

"Wha're d'ng t' 'e 'ere? 'eave 'e 'une."

"Yeah, that's not even close to being close to English. Gonna have to tell Greggo you're learning his type of speak if ya keep it up."

Nick managed to open his eyes and looked up into the amused green ones above his head. His lips turned upward into a sneer, "Wha' you want? Sleepin'."

"I know, hind side. I was the one who hauled your ass into here after you destroyed your house. And when I say destroyed, oh I mean it. You went ape shit on it dude."

"Huh?"

"You take your pills yesterday?"

A hand rose and scratched at his nose, "I don't know what you're talking about 'Rick. My house?"

"Geez. I knew these episodes could get bad, but you haven't had one like this in awhile. Thought we had it dealt with. Guess I was hoping for something to soon. How's the hand?"

Pain suddenly reminded him he even had a hand. Nick looked at the bandages wrapped around his hand, the one he had brought to scratch at his itch. And seeing the pink working its way through the bandages was enough for Nick to remember.

"Oh shit!" Nick buried his face into his pillow, trying to suffocate the thoughts away.

"Shit is right. Gonna take some work to get things cleaned up. What set this one of?"

"I dunno. Went for a run. Clear my head," Nick sat up, hair in disarray, "Came back…shit, got to the end of my driveway. Saw the lights or something. I dunno. Snapped I guess. Haven't done that since right after. Thought I was done too."

"Remember anything major with it?"

"Lots of flashbacks. Lots of darkness. Need to get my flashlight."

Warrick chuckled at that one, pushing Nick back onto the bed as the man fought to get to his feet, "I grabbed it on my way in. Was sitting in the middle of your drive. Almost ran the damn thing over with my truck."

"Hm," Nick looked around his bedroom, suddenly unsure and uneasy.

"What's wrong Nick?" Warrick asked, gripping Nick's shoulder in a friendly vice.

"Something's wrong with me. I'm crazy. I should be locked up."

"Nah man. Nothing wrong with you other than your style. Shit was hard. And a lot all at once. Believe me, I'm still dealing with it as well. Wasn't no picnic. Just glad you called me when you did."

"Should have done it right away. I know I thought of it. Just didn't do it. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," Warrick got to his feet and began to wander around the room, not wanting to make Nick feel like he was beginning to smother him. His eyes rested upon the open journal with the pen resting on top of the pages.

"You having much luck with this thing?"

"It's that fucking thing's fault for all of this!" Nick burst out, "If she didn't make me start this, remember everything, maybe it would all go away."

"Hey Nick, you ever think that this is a good thing? I mean, yeah, you're wrecking your stuff, but at least its on the outside. Imagine what you might do if you kept it all on the inside."

"Oh yeah, and I know how well you're doing with your own man. Don't lecture me on this stuff."

Turning back to the bed and its occupant, Warrick placed his hands on his hips, "I have other means to do this. Nick, I have a wife at home now. It is a big help. You're here alone, with that damn frog. And you wonder why you freak out. Shit."

"How can it be a good thing? I do nothing, but panic," Nick asked with wide, questioning eyes. His fingers were playing with a string from his blanket, eyes downcast.

"You're dealing with it. Might not be the most cost effective way, but you're doing it the way you need to. You had similar things after…well, after the other time. But this one, lots of shit with this one, man. I wouldn't blame you for much right now."

"Should be locked up."

"You and half the planet," Warrick walked a little closer to the bed, "You're doing fine Nick. Have to replace half your kitchen, but you're fine. No need to lock you up."

"Don't deserve to get to go back to work."

"Uh huh, sure. Like the lab will be able to survive without you there helping us out."

"Us? You're still out too, Warrick. And they seem to be doing just fine without me right now."

"Nick? What really is the problem? Nothing to do with work or anything like that. What really set you off tonight?" Warrick asked with no resistance in his voice.

Nick swallowed and frowned, "The journal. I'm to that part. I've been writing things down the best I can remember. And I'm to that part."

"What part?"

"_His_ part. The middle of everything. I can't do it anymore Warrick. I'm done with the journal. It wasn't a good idea. I was getting better before that damn thing made me relive everything again. And this I can't do."

Warrick breathed deep through his nose, "You lived through it once. I think writing it will be easier. You want me to stick around and help you do it? Might do me some good too."

"I dunno. I think I'm going to skip it and move on. I want to get back to normal again."

"Ain't no such thing as normal with you anymore Nick. Hell, ever at that. Should just accept that. You're a lost cause," Warrick teased as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"What about your wife you have supporting you back home? Won't she get curious to what you're doing over here at this hour? It is late after all, like you said."

"You ain't that good looking, man," Warrick snorted at the attempt Nick was trying to make at loosening up the mood, "And Tina knows what's going on. She wants to help too if possible. Still can't figure out how she likes you better than me. I'm her damn husband."

"I'm smarter than you," Nick grinned as he ran his good fingers over the bandages on the bad ones.

"Yeah, forgot about that one. So…you want me to help you? I think the two of us can get through this without you trashing your living room next. Last thing I want to listen to is you bitching about how you destroyed all your precious bird documentaries. A root canal would be preferred to that one."

"Thanks Warrick. I mean it. For everything."

Warrick nodded his head, smiled, "Nothing you wouldn't do for me. Now. Let's see how well I can remember this shit. Hell, I should have brought my journal along. Could of filled it up with doodles or something. Get brownie points next visit."

"No gold stars in this one. No gold at all in this one," Nick mumbled as he got out of his bed and walked to his desk. It taunted him. A shiver went up his spine. The middle was waiting.

TBC…

Author Question: Just wondering how everyone is doing with the length of this story. Do you think it is getting too long? There are a few things I can do to shorten it up if need be. Otherwise, thinking this will be about thirty chapters long. Don't want to make it too dragged out. Let me know what you think on this. Thanks.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **So, everyone seems to be getting completely impatient with me. Hmm, seems to me that everyone is expecting something, something big. I supposed I could do something about that, huh. Yeah, I just might. But, you'll have to read just to make sure. Oh, and review as always. Bye!

**Chapter 22:**

_**About sacrifice and the offering of sacrifices, sacrificial animals think quite differently from those who look on: but they have never been allowed to have their say.**_

_**-Friedrich Nietzsche**_

Sixty two days earlier_…_

It was almost like Christmas morning. Everything was set up under the tree, shiny wrapping paper reflecting the lights off in hundreds of little rainbows. The turkey was in the oven, aroma filling the kitchen and beyond. Things were perfect.

Jacob Tenner rocked back onto his heels, eyes all agleam as he spoke into the phone. The man on the other line was following his instructions to the tee. It was all going to happen soon. Not much more waiting. A few more street lights, a couple of turns. Nick was almost there. It was almost too good to be true.

He turned aged eyes upon the angry man struggling in the chair at his right, gag digging into the sides of his mouth. Tenner couldn't help, but to smile as the next direction moved past his lips. Noise in his ear proved that it was followed. His teeth were shown more and more.

Yeah, he could smell the cranberries now.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Never before had Sam Vega seen so many people running around in one hospital before. Sure, he had seen plenty of doctors and nurses doing their jobs at fast intervals, but this was a sight to see. Lots of blue uniforms that shouldn't have anything to do with that atmosphere were there. And he knew he would never forget the sight of Sophia and Catherine standing side by side in charge of it all.

He walked over with stronger steps than were warranted for the moment, "How are things going here?"

"Figured out how he got out," Sophia turned hard eyes at him, hair brushing over her shoulder.

"They didn't drug him?"

Catherine shook her head, "No. He was just on'a IV for dehydration. Doctor didn't see the need to administer any sedatives. If I would have known that, I'd have had her dope him up beyond repair."

"Uh huh," Sam chuckled, "So, what'd you find?"

"Idiot walked right out the back door. Walked right past the ditz at the counter and out into the ambulance bay. No one stopped him or asked him a thing. Smile was all it took to get beyond the receptionist of the millennium," Sophia shook her head, weight shifted from foot to foot.

"Video?"

"Yeah. I looked it over with Sophia and collected the tapes he was on. Having it sent to the lab for Archie."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "You really think that's necessary? If he walked out on his own?"

The blonde CSI seemed to deflate even more under his watchful stare. Sam could see that Catherine was beginning to feel the stress of all this more and more. He was worried she was going to break before she could get in a break. She squared her shoulders as she looked at him.

"Right now, I'm not taking any chances. Sara and Greg were here, but I sent them back. They don't need to be here dealing with this right now."

"Oh and you do?" Sophia asked the question before Sam could even get his mouth open.

Catherine glared at the other woman, "I can handle it. I've handled it before. I can do it again."

"Sure," Sophia looked away, "But don't expect me to help you to the car when you pass out from exhaustion and stress."

"No need, already at the hospital."

All three grew quiet looking back at the activity around them. Officers were questioning people that had been in the area, just to make sure no one else had been in any contact with Nick or seen anything out of the ordinary. Catherine wanted to be sure Nick had done this all under his own power, no outside forces acting on his decisions. She didn't like to think of someone else going into Nick's room and forcing him into something doing something.

Her phone went off, causing her to jump a couple centimeters in the air. She ignored the questioning looks from the two detectives with her and flipped it open, "Willows."

Sam tried to watch her face for any clues without looking obvious about it. From the small grin Sophia shot him, he knew he was doing a really bad job at it. But he didn't care. He simply watched the woman's face and listened to her voice. Something was up.

"Alright. Be right there," Catherine sighed as she closed the phone, "That was Gil. He's back at the lab with Jim. They want the three of us there as soon as we can make it. Jim said he preferred we fly back seeing it's the quickest mode of transportation."

Sam snorted, "He would too. What's he want us to do with this?"

"Nothing much more to do," Sophia placed her hands on her hips, "I'll leave some instructions with the officers to finish up and report to me as soon as they're done. We don't need to baby-sit anymore since we have all we really need. Just protocol now."

"Alright. Catherine, you come with me in my car. Sophia, follow as soon as you're done," Sam turned to walk away.

"I drove myself here. I can drive back to the lab."

"Yeah, but humor me. Okay?"

They went their ways, Catherine following after Sam with her eyes on the ground. Sam felt the responsibility he had just taken with full force. He was in charge of this CSI now. And she wasn't going to leave his sights at all costs. They would all have to do this now. None wanted to fail anymore. And Sam already figured that was the orders he was going to get as soon as he stood in front of the larger, meaner detective.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"Why did we have to come back here? We could have helped there."

"And do what? Get in Catherine's way? No Greg. Even I know that we had no purpose to stay at that hospital. Besides, we need to get the evidence to the places it needs to go. We still have this as a case, remember?" Sara walked forward, not bothering to look at the man walking at her side.

"But we know pretty much what happened at that garage. Kelly killed the woman with her car, then killed herself. What do we need to rush with it for? Doesn't help us find Warrick. Or Nick for that matter."

Greg used his longer legs to keep up with the pace set by his partner for the time being. He hadn't said much on the way from the hospital, his thoughts forming so he would be ready for when the words would come. And now that he was walking the familiar tile, he wanted to ask some questions.

Sara blew air from her lips causing her hair to move from the source across her forehead, "We don't know that. We don't know anything right now Greg other than Nick was there with her when she killed herself. And I want to know why he was there to begin with. Something went wrong. I don't think she was supposed to do that."

"No?"

"No. I mean," Sara stopped suddenly and looked Greg straight on, "Why go through all the trouble? If all she wanted was to get a hold of Nick, why kill the other woman? And why would she kill herself once she had what she wanted? Kelly did something and now Nick is gone."

They started walking again towards the conference room where they both felt Grissom would be waiting for them. Greg was nervous to go into that room. He didn't know if he would be able to tell his boss anything the older man wanted to hear. Only hope was that Grissom wouldn't ask anything of him.

"So you think Kelly was in on all of this?"

"It's a strong possibility. Warrick goes missing and Nick suddenly goes off with the daughter of the man who kidnapped him? She said or did something to get him to do it. Kelly knew something and must have told Nick. That's got to be why he snuck out of his hospital room. I mean, he was surprised she even came to the lab that day."

"But Nick would have told someone. He would have asked for help."

"Did he ask for help when going off with Kelly in the first place? No, he just went and now we're in this new mess," Sara raged on as they neared the room.

The younger CSI didn't have anything to say to that one. It was true. Nick had gone off when he should have gotten help or at least told someone he was going to meet with Kelly. Everyone had known she was out since she had made that little visit to the lab. It wouldn't have been something no one couldn't have dealt with.

Greg stopped dead at the doorway. He couldn't bring himself to enter the room with the looks he got from the two men waiting in there. For as long as he worked there, Greg had prided himself on not being afraid of his boss. But now, he was seriously reconsidering it.

"You two go to the hospital," Grissom asked with a blank face, telling them he already knew the answer with the void of a question.

Sara cleared her throat, already further into the room, "Yeah. Catherine sent back the video from the ambulance bay. Not much other than Nick walking out, alone and under his own power. No one really was saying anything and the receptionist only remembered a hot guy with a great smile walking out. Nothing more."

"What? He smile at her or something," Brass asked gruffly.

That was enough to get Greg to walk fully into the room, "Yeah."

The detective turned, shaking his head. Greg couldn't hear the full mutters that Brass was making, but he did catch a few words. Mostly having to do with idiots, Texans, and southern charm.

"I've been down with Robbins," Grissom broke into the conversation, "He has positively proved that Kelly killed herself with a single gunshot to the underside of her chin."

"There was a doubt in that?" Greg questioned.

Grissom refused to look at the younger man as he plowed forward, "And Silvia Mullins was killed from the impact of her car. I hope the evidence you two collected will be enough to prove that Kelly was the one driving the car at the point of collision. I don't want anything messed up with that."

Sharing a quick glance with Greg, Sara shook her head, "We have a few things. Dropped them off with DNA, trace, and the print lab. We should have the results soon. And the evidence bags are in the vault waiting to be processed by us."

It seemed to be enough to placate Grissom for the moment. The lead CSI began to pace the length of the room, hands at his sides. Brass watched him as he finally took a seat in one of the black chairs in the room. Feeling out of place, Greg quickly took up residence in another one.

"Catherine, Sophia, and Sam will all be here soon," Brass suddenly addressed Sara and Greg, "And I don't want any of you going anywhere alone right now. You leave the lab, you have one of us with you."

"One of you?" Greg swiveled around in his chair so he was facing Brass face on.

"Yeah, someone with a badge. No more running around and getting into trouble. You four are to be under our surveillance at all times. I have Vartann ready too if we need him, but I would like to keep someone to work out there. I heard swing just got another girl. They're making up for what graveyard is passing over."

Sara literally collapsed into a chair, "Another one? Same way?"

"Uh huh. She was shot in the lower back and neck. Left in an alley way behind a McDonald's. No one saw or heard a thing from what I've been told. But in that part of town, not too surprised."

"So, there are a lot more people doing this. You think it has to do with a gang?"

Grissom stopped his pacing at Sara's question and looked at her, "No. This isn't a gang. It's in the forms of a cult. They are working together, but don't have the signs of being a gang."

The word "cult" perked Greg's ears. In his career with the Vegas lab, he had now encountered two cults. One had been with that church with that crazy old man. The second, the recent one that had taken them down into that bunker. "How many cults are there in the area? We have a new one?"

There was an exchange of looks. Grissom and Brass seemed to forget the other two in the room for a moment as they had a silent conversation from minimal facial expressions. It was like trying to figure out the point of Modern Art as Greg watched them with a frown on his own youthful face. He just couldn't get what was going on and what was trying to be displayed.

"It's not a new one, parse," Grissom said slowly as he turned to look at his two CSI's.

Sara snapped at him, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"We're looking at it as a newer version of an older one," Brass interjected, "But we don't know yet how new."

There was only one that Greg could think of that fit that description, the latest one being mostly dead as it was, "So, you're telling me that church is back. The…" He trailed off as the name of the church eluded him.

"The Church of Gods," Sara breathed out, her eyes distant.

Brass nodded once, "It would seem so. After talking to Vartann about what happened on that street, the guy that walked off with Warrick was part of what happened before. So, seems to me that he would be pretty confident in going back to Tenner if he showed back up."

"Of course, we don't really know if they ever left," Grissom thought out loud, "They may have stayed in Vegas the entire time since then, planning for something like this. Sophia went with and talked to Johnson, but he didn't give anything that she knew of about them sticking around."

"Yeah, but why kill all those girls? Wouldn't they want revenge against the lab and the cops since they were after people from here to begin with," Greg questioned, leaning farther back in his chair.

"That's something we need to figure out. Somehow, if Tenner is back and part of this, there will be some sort of connector. We just need to think it out. And use it against him."

Pursing up his lips, Grissom walked over to the open door and looked out of it. No sign of his missing CSI or the two detectives yet. He wanted more minds, more thoughts before they began to dissect it any further.

"Anyway to track Tenner down? See if he has any property, bank accounts under his name are here in town?" Sara moved to the edge of her seat, her hands resting on the table in front of her.

"You think I haven't done that yet?" Brass asked incredulously, "I had them looking for it as soon as I could. So far, no one has been able to find a thing. Gil here asked Archie to help out on it. That kid can do anything with a computer and he might be able to weasel something out."

Grissom turned to look back at the table, "Alright. What I need now is for the two of you to process whatever you got from the parking garage. Did you get anything from the car?"

"We bagged Silvia Mullins cell phone and her briefcase. Nothing else really there. Seems that, well if Kelly did do it, she knew to wipe the surfaces clean, or wore gloves. No fingerprints that I found on the steering wheel," Greg swallowed heavily once he was done.

Nodding, Grissom pressed onward, "Good. See if you can find anything that would connect her to Kelly Gordon. Call and get a warrant for Mullins' office if you need to. I want to know why Kelly went after her. And to have Nick go there to see it as well. Something is missing."

"And what are we going to do?" Brass asked with an unsure look.

"We wait here and try to put the pieces together."

"Yeah, like that's been working so far. We don't have enough quite yet, Gil. Let's help the kids here and we can all present it when everyone is here and everything is done."

Greg looked between the other three people, his own thoughts in a rush through his head. He couldn't see how this all connected. Of course, he didn't have all the details he was sure Grissom and Brass had. It sounded like the best plan for this. And besides, it would give the younger CSI to catch up.

"Alright. Let's get this worked on. I want to be ready when Catherine gets here. We don't have a lot of time to mess around on this. I want answers and I want them sooner than later."

They broke up and went to different areas of the lab. It didn't seem to Greg that they were really working together, but he wasn't about to say anything more. All he wanted to do was look through that briefcase and see what he could come up with. There had to be something.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

His skin was covered in sweat, cold sweat. Nick had the windows rolled up, the air turned completely off in the truck. Yet, he felt cold. It seemed to start from the middle of his stomach and reached out through the rest of his body.

The muscles in his right arm were tight, sore from holding the phone to his ear so tightly for so long. But there was no way he was going to risk losing anything to switch hands. There was no way to predict what Tenner might do if he were to not say something if asked when the phone was down in front of him for that split second.

Nick could almost feel the excitement through the phone from the other man's voice. And he knew that couldn't mean anything good. All Nick hoped was that there would some sort of exchange. Warrick for himself. It was a long shot, but Nick was always for the underdog in a fair fight.

Where ever he was being led to was taking him well out past the strip. He was following a county road that he had honestly never been on. All he really knew for sure was the he was heading north out of Vegas. The desert was swallowing him and the truck now.

"Up the road, in about a mile, there will be another intersection, unmarked road. Take a left. Be careful, it gets a little bumpy."

Swallowing back a response, Nick stayed silent. He hadn't said a word to Tenner since he had left the parking lot. That was one thing he had to his advantage, not that it really meant anything. But it was part of his pride that Nick could keep quiet through the torment of having to be on the phone with that lunatic.

The speed of the truck decreased and Nick craned his neck forward to make out the intersection that Tenner was speaking of. It wasn't scheduled for the sun to come up for at least another two hours. Nick didn't want to risk missing the turn out in this area due to the darkness.

It was right about where Tenner said it would be. The so called road was only about one car width wide, completely gravel and sand. On each side there were lines of barbed wire marking off ends of properties, the only things really marking it as a road. There were no lights in front of him anymore that Nick could tell.

"Now, follow this. Watch, there's a few turns on this. Miss them and you'll go off into the desert. Don't want to get lost."

Nick gripped the wheel even tighter, muscles screaming to move from their locked positions, but he still listened to the voice, "You'll be on this for eight miles. Just keep driving."

And that was all he could really do. Nick really didn't know where he was anymore. He wouldn't have been too surprised to learn he wasn't even in Nevada anymore. Extremely unlikely, but Nick wasn't about to say no to it with his wonderful luck in life.

Worry swelled up into his throat, closing off a little of his airway. This had been happening on and off since he had taken the truck. And, sad as it was, not all that worry was for Warrick. That thought of course brought along a whole pile of guilt for such thoughts. Nick thought he was going to be sick from it all. And the bumps in the road weren't helping any either.

The turns were quite sharp in two spots, otherwise simple to maneuver. There was no more fencing lining the road. Now all there was in the wilderness was a slight depression and lack of vegetation. Nick couldn't see much from the light of the headlights and he didn't even think of stopping to look at the road. But he was sure that it was better used than he was thinking it was.

Dust kicked up behind the truck, leaving a dark cloud in his wake. Nick looked through the mirror and couldn't see much out the back window. The lights from the back of the truck lit the dust up, giving the air behind him an eerie red color. It almost looked like the spray of blood after a bullet impacted a skull.

"You should be almost to the end of the road. In about a mile, you will see a large building, like a warehouse on the left side of the road. Pull around it so you are on the back end. There will be a white door."

Nick shook his head and pinched his lips between his teeth. He didn't want to do this. There was still time to turn around and go get help. Tenner really couldn't know where he was, could he? Nick couldn't see how someone could put up cameras out here to watch people come and go.

But he knew if he turned around and fled back to Vegas, he would give the go for Warrick's execution. The man had been exceptionally cruel to the taller CSI when they had been held captive in that church basement. And Nick didn't want his friend to suffer more than he had to for his sake. It wouldn't be right.

Pressing down a little harder on the gas petal now, the truck shook and jerked over the rough terrain. There was something out there now. Nick could see a harsh outline of something large on the dark horizon. And it wasn't in the form of a mountain or a hill.

Flicking the brights off on the truck, the world suddenly seemed darker to him. Nick didn't really know why he bothered to do that, but something told him it would help him from being seen as easily. Pushing his tongue forward between his top teeth and upper lip, Nick chastised himself for something so stupid. It didn't matter anyways whether or not they saw him coming. They _knew_ he was coming.

The building was large. Getting closer to it Nick could see that it stretched for at least the length of two football fields. It was gray and brown in the headlights. Nick didn't bother looking towards the ground as he drove slowly around the corner of the building. His eyes were locked on the structure, trying to figure it out.

No marking were on any of the walls. Several of the square glass panes in the numerous windows were shattered or broken out completely. There were a great deal of doors along the sides. And Nick could also see at least two garage doors, larger like at auto garages. But none were colored white that he could tell.

"You're almost there Nick. Just find the white door."

His speed was gone. The truck almost seemed to crawl along now. Gravel crunched under the weight of the vehicle, alerting to his location. Tenner didn't say anything about it if he could tell through the phone. Nick swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing harshly in his throat. His jaw clenched, teeth tight together inside his mouth.

It was a fresh white door. Nick turned the truck towards it so the headlights shined directly upon it. Against the building it looked too clean, too fresh. They had prepared this for him. It was a bright spot in his dark future.

Nick put the truck into park and leaned back in the seat for a moment. The hand holding the phone went slack, but not enough that the phone went far from his ear. He closed his eyes and wiped at the grime in them with his newly freed hand.

"Turn the truck off. And enter the door Nick. No point in stalling. Just open it and come on in."

The phone finally went dead. Nick didn't bother to even close it or hit any buttons. He simply let it drop from his hand. It slapped and thunked as it fell, but he didn't care where it landed. Nick stretched out the muscles in that arm before using it to reach for the keys, which felt heavy and cold against his flesh. He slipped them into his jean pocket, pushing his hips up from the seat a little.

As he opened the door and moved from the seat, Nick finally turned off the headlights. The white door was still visible with the light provided from the stars and moon above. It wasn't as pristine as before, but it was there. The rest of the building seemed to disappear behind it.

Nick walked slowly, with wide steps. He let his eyes scan around, but there was no movement outside. And he couldn't see any lights on through the windows on this side of the building.

His heart was in his throat, stomach in his shoes. Nick's hand shook as it reached out and grasped the handle. It was greased and turned with ease. The door swung away from him, opening up to the unknown. Nick looked over his shoulder once, at the stallion of a truck before walking forward.

The sound of his boot soles on the ground was loud to his own ears. Nick swallowed continually as he took a few more steps into the room. It was dark, only a few candles lit in the area. There was no other noise.

Until the door closed behind him with a slam. Nick whirled around, almost falling over. No one was there that he could see. Panic caused his breathing to speed up, heart to beat faster.

A hand fell on his shoulder. Lips were close to his ear, "Welcome home, Nicky."

The breath smelled sweet. Then, nothing.

TBC…


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Well, I still haven't had a chance to see last night's episode. Have to wait until tomorrow night! That's so far away. But I did learn that two of the stories I've written have been nominated for fiction awards at csifanficawards on live journal. That was kind of cool. I just happened to look at the nominees and had to do a double take when I saw two of mine. Always thought the author had to be notified for such things, guess not. But still, pretty cool. Don't see me winning, not against the other awesome authors and their stories. Though, someone out their liked them well enough and I'd like to say thanks to whoever nominated both or either of them. And special thanks to my loyal reviewers on the last chapter. You guys are the best and I dedicate this chapter to the six of you! So, go on and read now that I've bored you all to death. Until next time.

**Chapter 23:**

_**You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that.**_

_**-Charlotte, "Charlotte's Web"**_

Catherine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her head was beginning to hurt. She wanted nothing more than to hole up with a bottle of ibuprofen and a good book. But there was no way she was going to leave this case fully in the hands of someone else. She was going to get her guys back.

The two detectives were following behind her, talking to each other. Catherine could hear pieces of what they were saying, but overall it was completely uninteresting to her. She didn't care how they were going to break up shifts to make sure the CSI's were being watched at all times. It was something she didn't really feel she needed to worry about. There was no need for her to follow after someone as a babysitter.

Passing by Grissom's office, she found that it was bare. Frustration flared as she stopped directly in front of his door, hands on her hips. She glanced around through the large glass windows that made up the lab's walls. All the technicians were busy doing their work. Hodges even appeared to be hard at working on his trace, not on annoying the life out of a CSI.

But she didn't see any of the people she was looking for. Her eyes narrowed a little, her shoes clacking against the tile as she picked up her pace once more. Several of the off center offices and lab rooms were dark, no one moving around inside. Even the break room had its lights off. Guess no one was allowed a few minutes for mediocre coffee on that day.

Catherine's steps became more of a march as she drew closer to the conference room. It was one of the last possibilities on this floor level. Lights were on, no one home.

"Where is everyone?"

Vega stepped up to her right side, "We could just call them and see. Can't be too far. With all this glass in this place, you'd think they'd be no problem to locate."

"Well, CSI's do have a good tendency to disappear when they aren't supposed to," Sophia remarked dryly, taking position on Catherine's left side.

"Funny guys," Catherine deadpanned, "Let's look a little longer."

She didn't wait for another snippy remark from either of them. Both had gotten on her nerves in a very short time. They were acting like everything bad that was happening in the world right at the moment was the fault of graveyard. Heaven forbid the cops take the blame for anything bad that might happen in such situations. Catherine could think of a few things she would love to say to the two of them, but bit her tongue and kept on walking.

They were coming up to the area closest to Ecklie's office and she was really hoping the lab director wasn't hanging around in it. Glancing down at her watch on her left wrist, it was hard to say. The day shift would be coming in soon to take over the lab. And sometimes the director would be there early. With this stuff going on, Catherine was sure he was here annoying everyone as much as he could.

But all her thoughts were cut off as she noticed the head of gray hair in the audio lab. Catherine changed her direction sharply and walked into the room. She didn't bother thinking of the detectives when she swung the door shut behind her. It stayed quiet. Neither of them followed her in the room.

"What's going on here! Why is everyone hiding away somewhere?"

Grissom didn't even move in her direction. He was sitting on the tall, black stool, back hunched over slightly so his elbows rested on the steel table in front of him. His eyes were locked on the main screen out of the five to choose from. Both his ears were covered with thick headphones.

Groaning to herself, Catherine reached forward and grabbed the black padding of the left muff, pulling it slightly away from the man's ear, "Grissom!"

For his efforts, Grissom didn't appear physically rattled by the sudden sound behind him. But when he turned around, no matter how high he raised his eyebrow, Catherine could see the surprise in his eyes. He was just a better poker player than she was.

"You're back. Just get here?" Grissom removed the head set and placed it gently down on the table, slightly off to his left.

"Yeah. What's with everyone hiding around here? It took me forever to find you holed up over here. What's going on?"

Reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose, Grissom nodded for the blonde woman to take a seat, "I have Sara and Greg working on the evidence they found at the parking garage. Just need to make sure there isn't something we need from there to find out where Warrick and Nick might be. As for where those two might be doing it? I have no idea. Jim is with them though."

"How come you get to be free from the police escort?" Catherine demanded.

"I had to promise Jim I wouldn't move." At the questioning look her received, Grissom cleared his throat, "Had to swear on my fetal pig."

Catherine rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Figures."

A small smiled appeared on Grissom's lips and he turned back to face the monitors in front of him. All trace of the smile disappeared within an instance. He was pretty sure on what he had heard no questions about what was going on from those tapes found in the victim's briefcase.

"What are you doing in here? Where's Archie?"

"He had to run a quick errand to the police station. Brass has him helping locating any information about what Tenner might be up to now that he appears to be back in Vegas."

Hard silence filled the room. Grissom's face scrunched up a little and he turned only his head to look over at Catherine. Her face was pale and clashed oddly with the brightness of her hair. But he didn't understand the reaction from the CSI. "Catherine?"

She swallowed harshly and managed to croak out some resemblance to her voice, "Tenner's back? How?"

"You didn't know?" Grissom was suddenly confused. He had thought everyone knew what they had come up with as their case hypothesis. But reality soon slammed into his brain, "You were at the hospital."

"Yeah. I must have missed that memo," Catherine sat up straight on her stool, hands clenched together in her lap, "Tell me."

"It appears that Tenner is back. After talking with Vartann, we have concluded that the man that grabbed Warrick was involved in the last situation. And from what I've found off these tapes from the parking garage, Kelly Gordon killed Silvia Mullins. She was a patient of the doctor. As was Jacob Tenner, about four years ago."

"So, they might know each other. But why kill the doctor? Was she going to the police?"

"Well, it's possible. From what Jim and I talked about, Tenner is behind these killings. He has his members going out to kill these young women and leave them for us to find."

"But why? You think they might be actual members that they turn against?"

Grissom looked down at the steel table top, "I don't know. We really don't have a lot to work with on any of the girls. Vartann is the detective in charge of them now and he has talked with the families of most of them. No one has said anything involving their daughter's involvement in a cult or odd changes in their behavior. I think they're just random girls they pick off the streets."

Neither said anything for a moment. Catherine had to digest the new information. Her lips twisted up, pursing outward. She let her gaze shift to the main screen that Grissom had been studying when she walked into the room. The name caught her attention the most.

"You're looking at Nick's victim file? Why?"

"Voice comparison."

Catherine didn't bother to hide her confusion, "Voice comparison? Using what?'

Moving his right hand towards the mouse, Grissom looked anywhere, but at Catherine. The arrow rolled over the button and the screen that Grissom had been using. It was one of the moments that Grissom wished the audio room didn't have a surround sound system.

"_Hi CSI guy. I bet you're wondering why you're here. Because you followed the evidence. Because that's what CSI's do. Breathe quick, breathe slow. Put your gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Any way you like, you're going to die here…..Perfect."_

"We know that's Gordon. Nick said he left a tape in there with him telling him about how he was going to die. We know that. What are you comparing?"

"You didn't hear it? At the end. There's another voice on the tape. I heard it last time, but didn't think anything of it. Now, I understood. It was a female voice."

"Wait," Catherine held up her right hand, suddenly wondering how it was possible that she was even hearing something that should have been blown up, "You heard it last time? What do you mean? How _did _you get this?"

"It was brought to me as evidence. Day shift found the remains of a tape recorder from the box. Archie was able to fix it up and restore the data recorded on it. I had it placed onto the file as extra evidence and it paid off."

"Did you tell anyone about that? Least of all Nick?" Catherine was on her feet; head tall over the man still on his stool.

Grissom rolled the mouse under his hand across the padding underneath it. This was the moment he had been dreaded for awhile. Wrong, this was one of the many moments that he had been worried about. "No, I only had Archie work with it and he told no one that it was recovered. I didn't want anyone to know. It was over and there was no need to bring it back up."

"Until now," Catherine snapped at him, "Now it's needed. And none of us would have known it because you hid it from us. I thought we were a team again! Seems to me you need to re-look up the definition in the dictionary Gil."

"But it paid off. I was able to identify the voice at the end. It belongs to Silvia Mullins. I took clips from her therapy tapes and used them to compare the octaves. It's a perfect match. She also worked with Walter Gordon."

"So, she killed Mullins. But what does that tell us about the reason behind it?"

"I listened to what was available from the therapy tapes of Kelly Gordon. There was no information or threats to what was going to happen. But according to some tests that Archie ran, Kelly did have agitation and anger pitches in her tone. But, we may never know the real reason for the killing."

"But at least it's some sort of connection between it all," Catherine sat back down. Her body was feeling heavy and her eyes were beginning to hurt. All she wanted to was to take a warm shower now to remove the phantom chills that had taken over.

"And we can add it to the evidence that Kelly was the main participant in the murder and her own suicide. We should have beyond a reasonable doubt now."

"We didn't before?"

The lead CSI actually looked her in the eyes for his answer, "Someone thought we didn't. They had Doc Robbins make a hundred percent sure that Nick didn't possibly pull the trigger and kill Kelly."

Catherine cocked her head to the said, wheels cranking, "But who…"

The light bulb came on and Grissom could do nothing more than stare after the blonde CSI as she stormed off from the room. He watched Vega scramble after her, pushing off the wall he had been leaning on. Sophia walked towards his with questions in his eyes. Grissom shook his head and turned back to the computers.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Vartann walked with his head downward. It was an odd sight to most of the cops on the scene. They weren't used to seeing one of their top detectives walking so dejected. Some of the newer officers tried not to stare at the man, tried to give him something.

Thoughts were warring with themselves in his head. Vartann felt guilty, felt behind in everything. He had been the one at the scene where Warrick had been taken. Something could have been done, something could have been said. He also blamed himself for the loss of Nick. Now, he was second guessing everything he was doing.

He wanted nothing more than to be at the lab with the other three detectives solving the problems to where the two CSI's were taken to. But he had to deal with the serial murders that were still going on around the city. It didn't seem like there was an end coming to any of it.

David had already come and collected the body. Two members of the swing shift were walking around, trying to figure out what had happened. Vartann wanted to tell them they weren't going to get anywhere. If graveyard was in the dark on what was going on, there was no way the new swing shift was going to be able to figure it out.

She had been shot in the lower back, the back of the neck. It was the same as before. And her shoes were taken off her feet. They were tied together by the laces and flung to the side of the body, about four feet away. Vartann really didn't get the shoe thing, other than it could prove the same person did most of these killings.

Shaking his head, Vartann huffed a breath and stopped in his tracks. He could hear the radios crackling behind him from the different police cars. No one was running to get the full story on any of the gibberish, so no good news. And no bad news either than.

The sun was going to come up soon. He looked up to the sky and almost cursed the warm rays of pinks, oranges, and reds coming across through the darkness. Soon people would be waking up from their beds and not even be aware of all that had happened while they slept in their warm beds. None would know the new fears consuming the city of sin.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick blinked his eyes quickly. He had been sure he had been knocked unconscious, but he was still on his feet, still aware of what was going on around him. The breath, the hand…they were gone. Went off into nothing.

He pinched his lips together, brown eyes locked forward on the brighter door in front of him. Shadows began to move in his perception vision. A chill of fear shot through his body, but Nick was determined to play this stronger than he had before. He would show them little to no fear for as long as humanly possible.

Something shifted close to his back. Nick could literally feel the heat from the object. And from the way it was equally spread from his calves to the back of his shoulders, Nick was pretty certain it was a person. And a large one at that. Tenner wasn't behind him anymore.

His hands automatically formed fists and his body tensed up for a fight. If he could take some of these assholes out now, he was going to go for it. Nick noticed the shadows were beginning to take shapes, human shapes as they came closer. And he noticed the damn back cloaks.

"I don't think so," Nick mumbled under his breath as he brought his arms up, elbows bending.

The body directly behind him must have been anticipating the move because two large, bear sized around wrapped themselves around Nick from behind. Nick didn't have time to move his arms up any further, hands trapped down by his hips. But the CSI wasn't going to just sit there and take it.

Nick moved his head forward quickly, chin touching his chest. Exhaling, he threw his head back as hard as he could. The back of his skull connected with a bright flash of lights and cursing. Both arms let go of his body and Nick stumbled forward.

He didn't bother looking back at the man behind him, but turned to the next quickest advancing body. The cloak bellowed out from the figure and Nick had a hard time trying to figure out how big the person really was. For all he knew, this could be a woman. But he wasn't about to pay too much attention. His and Warrick's lives were at stake in this one.

Pulling his arm back tight against his body, Nick shot his fist out hard and fast. The bones of his knuckles collided with what felt to be a cheek bone underneath the black cloth. And it seemed to be enough as that person dropped backwards like a stone.

A pale hand gripped hard around his upper, right arm. Nick made a quick turn, using his body weight to pull the person in closer. His left fist was waiting and slammed hard into the unprotected abdomen of whoever it was. From the deep moan, the guy wasn't appreciative of the hit. Nick gave him another one, this time with his right fist in the side.

Nick had a couple of quick flashes back to when Warrick and he had fought off a bunch of these goons back in his house. He kept his eyes peeled for anything shiny in the little amounts of light. And Nick kept his body moving so it would be harder for someone to come up behind him in a sneak attack.

Two of the cloaks finally decided it might be a good idea to try rushing the CSI at once. One came in from the front, the other from the far left. Nick shifted his weight and prayed his flexibility hadn't gotten too bad. He hadn't done this kind of things since back when he had been in the police academy. The sole of his right boot stopped the front incomer up short and hard, his right fist smashing into the other.

But he had left himself wide open with his offensive attack. Large Arms was back and Nick had a feeling he was extremely pissed. A massive arm swept down over his face when Nick was still trying to recover his balance from the kick. It locked hard around his neck. Both his hands instinctively when up to grip at it. Large Arms wasn't taking it nice and easy this time.

The choke hold was getting tighter. Nick couldn't work any of his fingers between the flesh of the arm and his throat. He could feel the sensitive tube in his throat getting pinched off. His Adam's apple was slammed backwards. Tiny yellow spots began to appear in front of his eyes, shooting off against the blackness of the room.

"Don't kill him. Or knock him out for that matter. I want him awake for this."

Through the haze that began to take over his brain, Nick barely made out the words. The arm was removed and his legs let go like jelly. Nick fell forward, landing hard on his knees. His lungs worked hard to pull in as much oxygen as they could through the dusty air. He was roughly pulled upward, hacking coughs erupting from his chest.

Nick's eyes watered and made things blurry. A figure was no directly in front of him. Large Arms had to be the one right behind him, holding him in a locking grip. Two meaty hands held his upper arms tightly against his torso. Nick didn't have a lot of squirming room.

The sweet breath was back, "Now Nick. You should know what happens when you try to fight me. You always get hurt in some form. That's not what I'm here to do, you know."

"Could'a fooled…me," Nick barked out around his coughing and gasping.

Tenner reached up and placed a cool hand against Nick's left cheek, "Come. We have much to discuss and go over. You can get some water for your throat as well then."

Confusion swarmed in with his other emotions as Nick was pushed forward. He scrambled to keep his feet under him for a couple of steps before figuring out how to walk the best in such a hold. The man behind him would often catch his boot heels as they walked, which Nick was sure was on purpose.

He could make out the door frame as they walked through it, but like the room they had just left, there was no strong light form. Nick squinted his eyes a little, but it didn't do much for helping. His throat burned, but he was able to breath closer to normal now. It was easier just to let Large Arms lead him along.

Nick observed the back of Tenner's head, to the best of his ability. The hair seemed to be as gray as before and the man was still smaller than him. It was no problem coming to the conclusion that Nick could crush the guy in a one-on-one.

They came up to another door frame, but this one actually had a closed door to it. Nick looked down and could see light from underneath this one. And when Tenner threw it open, Nick had to close his eyes against the brightness of it. He was still pushed forward, but Nick wanted to allow his eyes the most time to adjust to the new conditions.

A strained mumbling was enough to force him to open his eyes, "Warrick!"

Now Nick threw his weight against the hands holding him. He couldn't still see the best, but there was no mistaking his best friend sitting tied up in front of three large lamps. The other CSI was gagged with a white cloth wrapped around his head. And there were several loops of rope wrapped around his middle section.

"Yes, your precious friend is here. And not too badly hurt at that," Tenner remarked as he walked over to the first lamp, flipping it off.

With his eyes more clearly adjusted, Nick could make out the bruises and cuts on Warrick face. Anger swelled up in his body and he threw his weight against the hands again. They slipped a little so Nick tried it again. One hand let go. But Nick's victory was cut short. A fist landed hard against his spine, just below his neck.

The blow was enough to slam the Texan back down on already sore knees. A wheeze escaped his lips and he could just make out the sounds of Warrick fighting against his bonds some more. Nick pushed himself up so his weight was resting on his lower legs in his kneeling position, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth.

"You have me now. You can let him go."

Tenner smiled at the fallen man, "You'd like that wouldn't you. But I don't seem to remember that being part of our agreement. You both can stay. Friends should always be there to help the other out in such situations. Wouldn't you agree?"

"But you told me it was me you wanted. Not Warrick. Let him go."

"And what?" Tenner stomped over to Nick, "And let him go back to Vegas and tell everyone where we are? I think not. You both are going to die here. Whether you like it or not."

"But why? You lost before. Let it go," Nick said.

"I lost twice, not once. And I refuse to lose for a third time. The number three is bad luck to me in too many ways. I refuse to let it win on this occasion."

Nick shook his head, clearing it for what he thought to be bad hearing, "Two times?"

Another lamp was switched off in front of Warrick. Nick could see him blinking against the different changes in lighting. The other man's lips were pulled back hard by the cloth. There was a large bruise forming around Warrick's left eye.

"Yes. Well, only one that I did on my own. The second, I put too much trust into him. He should have gotten the job done. It was luck and he let it all go. Fool he was. But he will suffer through all eternity."

"I don't understand," Nick looked down at the floor, sounding like a young, lost child.

He could see Tenner's dark pants when the man kneeled in front of him. The hands were still cool when they reached up and cradled his face between them. Nick tried to react, but as soon as his hands moved, they were wrapped up in coils of rough rope. And there was no pulling his face away. Both thumbs stroked over his cheek bones, a soft look coming over Tenner's face.

"I wouldn't expect you to. It was pure luck he got you and no one else. There was no real way to plan it to get someone specific. All I could offer was finance and some friendly advice. But he took it all into the personal range. It's what ended it all and let you live."

Nick's eyes widened and he breathed out, "No."

"Yes. Walter Gordon wasn't supposed to blow only himself up. And you weren't supposed to live once he put you in that box. I watched the whole thing as well. Both scenes. You were supposed to die that day, in that underground hell. Now, it's my turn again to make sure it happens for real this time."

TBC…


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Alright, this turned out to be a different chapter than I had planned on. Might mean there may be one or two more chapters needed to this story if I keep this up. Yikes, going to be sooo long! Ah well, sure you guys aren't going to complain too much. So, I really got behind in this chapter, wanted this up yesterday. But, bad weekend, bad job, and lots of homework reading…not a writer's friend. Next chapter will hopefully be up during the upcoming weekend. Oh yeah, please review! Until later!

**Chapter 24:**

_**Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.**_

_**-Albert Einstein**_

To say he was flabbergasted was not enough. Nick could feel his mouth opening and closing, but his vocal cords didn't even come close to making any sort of sound. Suddenly he felt all the more violated. It had been hard enough to know the entire lab watched his ordeal, but to know Tenner did as well was too much.

Nick had prided himself on the fact that he hadn't collapsed once he was freed from that prison. Sure, he had come close when all he could see was dark brown and all he could smell was compacted soil. But his CSI family had come and gotten him out, away.

Now he was here, hearing things that weren't making him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Tenner knew something Nick wanted to keep a secret, hidden from the rest of the world. Only people he trusted were welcome to that information. Not this manic in front of him, still holding onto his cheeks and smiling at him.

Trying to remove his head from the grip, Nick blinked rapidly to stop the formation of the tears coming to the surface. He wasn't going to give this man any more than he was forced to. Tears weren't going to save him. Nick was pretty sure they would be enough to condemn him for even longer.

A thumb moved upward and Nick could feel it moving softly against the skin directly under his right eye. Gasping a little, Nick knew that Tenner could see his inner battle. There was no keeping it locked up when he was forced to have such close contact with the man.

"You didn't know it. Nothing to beat yourself up for Nicky. I'm sure there are plenty of other things to feel bad about. Just don't worry about that one," Tenner spoke with the concern and care of a loving grandfather, thumb still stroking along Nick's skin.

"Now, I would like to get things moving now that they are going so well to begin with. You two made this all easier than I could have ever hoped for."

The two hands squeezed his face a little more, forcing his bottom lip to pucker up from his teeth. Nick leaned forward when the presence was completely gone, but he didn't have too much time to think about things. Strong hands had taken position under his arms, deep into his arm pits. He was pulled up and dropped down onto his own two feet.

A second chair was being brought out from the wall by a shorter cloaked figure. It was set up directly in front of his gagged best friend. Tenner stepped back a little, his right hand held out to the side in a gesture that meant Nick was supposed to move in that direction. The Texan hesitated enough to receive a shove in the back for his effort.

Nick walked steady, both feet planted fully on the ground with each right, left. His brown eyes met the concerned green ones. Giving a small, imperceptible nod, Nick sat in the chair. Once he was seated, Nick's knees collided and rested against Warrick's own. Both shoulders pulled uncomfortably as his weight pressed against his tied hands to the back of the chair.

"That can't be comfortable," Tenner mentioned as he moved closer, "Let's get that fixed, shan't we? Hmm?"

The man with the large arms, that Nick could now see was Shaun, moved closer. He was rough as he pushed Nick forward enough so he was forced a little to his feet. The rope wrapped around his wrists was grabbed and yanked backwards, taking the CSI with it. It was a hard angle and Nick gasped out at the pull as his arms were shoved over the back of the plastic chair. He was left alone once he was situated better.

"Alright, now, we have much to do. I fear I don't wish to take too much time, but at the same moment, I want it to last forever."

"And what would that be?" Nick asked, looking over Warrick at the same time for any other injuries that might be more sever than the couple of bruises."

"That's the problem with serial killing, you only have so much time before the pieces begin to fit together. I really would hate to lead your great Gil Grissom straight to me, but yet, have some more bodies that need to be added to the count."

Nick frowned and looked over at the older man, "So you were the one behind all those girls? Why?"

"Why not? Don't need to make things some complicated. Some things are just the way they are."

"Somehow I seriously doubt that this is one of those things. You have a reason for doing it. Just like you had a reason to get involved with Gordon."

"You think you're so smart, don't you? Well, it doesn't surprise me at all. You always were the slower one that had to talk everything out. I remember that from the last time, when I got to read your personal file. Was a complaint from one of your coworkers. If you play nicely I might just give you a hint as to who it was later."

"There's always a reason for everything someone does," Nick shook his head, "But I guess you think you're above that and don't need anything. Just proves you are insane."

The widening in Warrick's eyes showed the displeasure that Nick was egging the man on. But Nick was sick of this already and wasn't about to play along nicely. He was going to do whatever he could to get out of there all the faster. And they were both going to keep their heads on their shoulders doing it.

"I would have to beg to differ. There is no such thing as insanity. Only the unrealized ideas of the so-called sane. Those are the things that become insane to normal society. I just live above those standards and what I do is too advanced for mere mortals to understand."

Everything about this conversation was sending off warning bells in Nick's head. It sounded like they were discussing what items needed to be added to the weekly grocery list. Nick didn't like the calm exterior Tenner suddenly had adopted. The man seemed too controlled for what he was doing to them. He was clearly insane.

And it also appeared that the older man wasn't sick of hearing the sound of his own voice yet, "I do realize the need for good help as well, as you should be able to see quite well for yourself. These are my loyal followers, many from before. I never completely went away, just under your…radar."

"But you got away. What's the point in coming back and coming at us? You could have gone to some foreign country and harassed the people there."

"Oh, yes, I could have. But even a man such as myself has his pride. And I wasn't about to be run out of town because of a damn cop such as yourself," Tenner huffed out by the end of his sentence. His face was getting a little red in the cheeks with his anger.

Nick took the pleading look that Warrick was giving him into consideration and didn't say another word. He leaned back against the plastic of the chair, his legs loose in front of him. Warrick had maneuvered it so their knees were in full contact, the only they could have right then. It helped to ground Nick and prove to him he wasn't in this alone.

"Shaun, I want him secured to that chair. Make sure he can't move. We have some work to do. I want two more girls killed before this day is over. And I'm in the mood for Asian today."

The wall of a man nodded his head and moved out of the room. A couple of the other cloaked figures moved with him. Nick watched them go through squinted eyes before looking at Tenner, "Which one removes their shoes?"

It stunned the man, "What?"

"After they kill them, who takes off their shoes?"

"Their shoes? What are you talking about?"

Chuckling, Nick raised an eyebrow to the confused man, "So, you don't know _everything_ there is to know about your men. Interesting to know."

"Well, it's not like it matters anyways. As long as they kill the girls when they go out. I don't really care about what they do with their footwear."

But it was clear to both CSI's that it did bother the man. It was something he didn't include in the plans for the murders. Tenner wasn't in control of his people as much as he thought he was. Nick had to admit it was a slightly encouraging thought. There were holes that they may be able to make bigger to buy more time in this mess.

"What is in the plan to kill the girls?" Nick asked shooting a look over at Warrick. The other man had given up on trying to get loose and was simply sitting, watching what was happening with his speech granted friend. If he could have, he would have helped Nick torment the man, but could only encourage him through silent thoughts.

"All in due time Nicky. For now, I have things that need to be made ready. Besides, I'm sure you would like to talk with your friend and figure out a way to get free. I wouldn't wish to take that away from you."

Two cloak figures merged from the shadows and reached out for the two lamps that had been turned off. Each was flipped back on and Nick had to close his eyes against the added brightness in the room. He couldn't image how Warrick managed not to freak out with that blaring in his face. Of course, Warrick didn't have any other memories to make the lights even worse.

Tenner smiled and didn't say another word. He simply turned with a slight squeak of his shoes. Everyone moved after him through the door. Nick watched them until the door was pulled closed behind the last cloaked member. He licked his lips as he turned to look at Warrick.

"So, any bright ideas on how to do this talking thing?"

Glaring at him the best he could over the gag, Warrick threw his right knee hard into Nick's. Sometimes he really didn't get the Texan's sense of humor and didn't see the need for that joke at all, as lame as it was. He just really wished he had the ability to tell Nick that he was the lamest white boy he knew.

Nick shrugged a little, "No? Alright. I'll keep us both company then."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg walked slowly, eyes downward. He didn't really want to talk to anyone. All he wanted was a cup of coffee. And he has just replenished his stash. That bonus on his last check had helped out and now he could get some more of the good stuff. But he wasn't about to tell anyone else about it. He would just make up something to cover up the smell, new cologne or something like that.

The break room was only ten paces, then a turn, twenty more paces. He had it all figured out. Greg was almost to the AV room. That was close to the coffee machine. Only hoped that no one tried to make the daily sludge yet so he could start with a nice, clean pot.

Loud footsteps were coming in his direction. From the sound, woman's shoes. And then a scrambling of rubber soles after them. Greg didn't bother to look up until he was brushed by something golden, then pushed by something stockier.

"Whoa, sorry Greg!" Sam threw over his shoulder as he moved after Catherine.

Greg's forehead crinkled into a frown, his head turned to the right just a little bit. The frown disappeared into a curious look and he changed his direction. He could wait on the coffee until he knew what was going on.

His eyes widened when he saw exactly where Catherine was storming off to. And from the lights and closed door, Ecklie was in his office. Greg couldn't help, but to grin a little bit now. Something good was about to go down. He moved closer.

"Catherine!" Sam tried to grab at her arm, "Just slow down. What are you planning on doing here?"

"Don't try and stop me!"

Licking at his teeth, Greg's eyebrows rose in amusement. He knew that tone all to well. Hell, he had heard it from the blonde CSI only a short time ago at the hospital. Catherine was going to rip Ecklie a big 'ol new one.

Her fist looked small as it rose to pound on the wood, "Conrad!"

Choosing to hold back a little, Greg leaned against the doorway of a closed closet. He was close enough to hear a mumbled reply through the wood of the door, but not exactly what was said. All he really could hear were Sam's pleas that she not do anything rash right now.

The door swung open and Ecklie stood directly in the middle of the threshold. He looked tired and angry. Angry that someone had the nerve to knock on his office door like he wasn't the director or something. Greg couldn't help, but to grin even more. He knew the man would be nothing more than toast soon.

"What can I do for you Catherine?"

"What is this I hear about you going down to the morgue and nosing in a case that isn't even yours?"

Ecklie stood tall and looked down at Catherine like he couldn't believe he had to deal with this right then, "I'm the director of the lab. It's my job to inspect other cases and keep on top of how things are being done here. And I don't think I have to answer to you by any means."

Greg really wished he had taken cover. He could see the set lines in Catherine's face even from the distance he had placed himself at. This was about to be World War III right there in the crime lab. Only two people for the two sides. And Greg was putting all his money on Catherine. He should have just kept going and gotten his damn coffee.

"So you really thought Nick had anything to do with that bullet Kelly put in her own head? I know you make Robbins do a homicide scope on the body. And I want to know why."

"Well, I'm assuming since you know what I asked performed in the morgue in the lab that I run, I'll assume you really know what led me to that. And there is nothing wrong with it. It was justified."

Catherine's body leaned back a little as if she had been pushed, "Justified? From what? What happened before, which was by no means his fault. He was cleared. This is almost as good as double jeopardy."

"You would stand up for Stokes, wouldn't you," Ecklie crossed his arms across his chest, "He was never the best one for the job, yet all of you graveyards CSI's have stood up for him and demanded special treatment for him. It's a never ending story with the man. It would easier to have him taken out of this lab."

That was not the right thing to say. Greg knew that. He couldn't see how that man could have been so stupid to think he could just go off at Catherine like that. And from looking at Sam, the detective was thinking the same thing. Under his own anger, of course.

"Nick is a valuable member to the team! He has done a great deal for this lab over the past years and we need him. You tried to split us up once and we all see how that worked out."

"Yes, and at the fault of Stokes! I'm glad you are beginning to see things my way."

Greg had to press his lips tightly together at that moment to stop the laugh from escaping. He was seriously impressed in the hole the lab director seemed to be able to bury himself in. The man was going to go where no one had been to before. And the newest graveyard CSI was ready to see it.

"If your thinking what I know you are, I would recommend you stop that thought train right there Conrad. Nick and Warrick are missing right now. You could at least pretend like you care about them and getting them back," Catherine placed her hands on her hips and threw her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"The lab doesn't have all the resources in the world, Catherine. We just can't spend all our time running after CSI's that are stupid enough to get into trouble. There are real crimes to work on."

It suddenly went really quiet in the lab. Greg's own breathing suddenly sounded like a monsoon to his own ears. But he kept his eyes wide and plastered on the three figures in front of him. Sam looked like he wanted to jump off a bridge.

Catherine's face deformed into a sneer and her right hand extended to poke at Ecklie in the chest, "You're the reason this guy is after them in the first place. You let that woman in the lab to take personal files! And know your acting like their nothing more than throwaways."

"I don't appreciate having to take this. Now, I have other work to get to. In case you haven't been paying attention, there have been several murders happening around the city that need some of my attention."

The director barely moved before Catherine's fist smashed into his face. It didn't impact like Greg was hoping, but it was enough to rock Ecklie back onto his heels. And from the way his hands flew up to his face, it hurt a hell of a lot more than it looked from his position. But Greg couldn't help being totally happy and elated, while at the same time shocked. He never had seen Catherine resort to physical violence before. Greg kind of liked it.

She stormed off against with the sound of heavy shoe clashes. Ecklie didn't yell after her, only turned and went back into his office, door slamming shut. The sound of the mad CSI was quickly vanishing away with the echoes of the hallway.

Sam threw Greg a look, shoulders and hands up in a shrug, "Why couldn't this have been a normal day? Ya know, nothing more than psycho homicides and crazy drug parties."

Soon Greg was alone, still leaning against the doorway. He pushed himself off, turned on his heels to face in the other direction. A small grin remained on his face, a hummed song making its way out of his throat. That coffee would be even better now.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"You think Dallas has it in 'em this year? I mean, they might be able to improve their passing game to get it into the end zone some more. Of course, Indianapolis is looking good with that damn quarterback. Still think the guy is on steroids or something."

No response.

"Of course, it's still pretty early in the season. Lot's of stuff might happen. I mean, who would have thought Seattle would have gotten up there. That team might not be too shabby in the end. Not going to put much in on 'em, but might be worth watching. Just in case we get that fantasy football thing going."

A muffled mumble.

"I mean, that might be fun. Wouldn't have to use money on it or anything. Just pick the players, watch the games. See who the best is when it comes to scouting. I dunno, I think we should do it. Might teach Greggo a thing or two if we did it. Swear the guy still doesn't know what holding means."

Deep throated laughter, halted from the gag.

"I don't know about you Warrick," Nick licked his lips, "But I'm sick of talking. It's had to of been at least a half hour. I don't talk this much, man. Starting to think I could hang out with the girls at this rate. Keep up with their gossiping then."

Warrick just shook his head. He had listened to Nick talk no stop about the most random crap for who knows how long. It had been amusing. He would have never thought the Texan knew that much stuff to just ramble off like that at such little notice. Only think he had been most thankful for was when Nick finally dropped the bird stuff and got onto football.

His mouth was dry. The top of his mouth didn't have any more feeling to it. Hell, Warrick wouldn't doubt someone if they told him it wasn't even there anymore. And his nose was really beginning to itch. There was something tickling at it constantly. It was driving him crazy.

"What do you think our chances are?"

It was quiet, totally un-Nick like. And after all the rambling he had done in his normal, conversational voice, it was like a child's whisper. Warrick really wished there was something he could say clearing. He had tried to mumbled things around the gag and his thick tongue. It wasn't an option. Besides, he wasn't drooling all over himself.

"I think we might really die here. I don't think we can get out of this one. No one knows where I am. Hell, they probably just figured out I took off. Well, maybe not _just, _but not early enough."

Warrick shook his head, mumbled a little. It wasn't enough to get Nick's attention. The other CSI was studying the spot where their knees met. The taller man tried to jiggle the other man's leg, but Nick didn't catch on at all.

"I don't think I want to die here."

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Warrick slammed his knee hard into Nick's. The other man looked at him with deer-in-a-headlight eyes. He rolled his own green eyes and then slammed a glare at Nick.

"What? You think this is easy for me? Huh? Well, it's not. So sorry for thinking on the pessimistic side of things. Didn't realize I always had to be light and happy for you guys all the time. Reliable old Nick, happy no matter what. Bullshit," Nick turned to look somewhere off to the right, squinting against the lights.

Frowning, Warrick began to wonder how long that one had been building up. He knew Nick was never going to be the same after what Gordon had done, but he hadn't lost that optimism that had gotten him through the job. It scared him a little to think of Nick losing it for good. Warrick needed that from the other man as much as his friendship.

"I don't get it. What's wrong with knowing I'm going to die and not wanting to? I mean, I've held a gun to my chin, ready to blow my own head off. Big deal. I've just seen two different people do it. Doesn't look as painful as TV and books make it out to be. Quick and sudden. Just a quick little pull with one finger, simple."

Warrick slammed Nick's knee again and made some angry noises in his throat. That wasn't something he was going to listen to.

"Yeah, yeah. Can't talk about death," Nick forced a chummy smiled onto his face, dimples too deep to be even close to real, "So what? Want to talk about how we're going to Maguiver our asses out of here? Sorry, but I didn't bring the toothpick with me today. Forgot it back with the used toilet paper roll."

He wanted nothing more than to get out that chair. Not to get away right at that moment, but to kick Nick's ass back into reality. It was obviously not a good thing to let Nick talk to himself for so long, even if the man was talking at someone else.

And the lights were beginning to really piss him off as well. Warrick was sure his corneas were permanently shrunk down to minimum. There would be going to the clubs for him anymore. He wouldn't be able to see the beer in his hand right in front of his face after this one.

"So, you think Chicago might go all the way this year? Might make for an interesting Super Bowl. Chicago against the Broncos? Hmm, interesting…"

Warrick rolled his eyes at the sudden shift in the other man. He wouldn't need Tenner to kill him anymore. Nick was going to manage it all on his own. His brain was going to explode in his head.

TBC…


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Have to wait to see the new episode again! I'm not going to get to see any of the new episodes on time anymore this next couple of months. I got roped into a civilian police academy and guess when they meet…Thurs night! Figures. Just finished self defense class and now this. Only cool thing…I get to shoot some guns! Mawahaha! Alright, enough of that. Here's the new chapter. Lots of good stuff in this one, and oh yeah, only the boys! So, pleases review and let me know you guys aren't dropping off like flies. Only three/two reviews each on the last two chapters makes me kinda nervous, won't lie. Next chapter up early next week. Bye!

**Chapter 25:**

_**The fear of death is more to be dreaded than death itself. **_

_**-Publilius Syrus (100 BC), Maxims **_

Warrick managed to keep his eyes open though they burned and ached. He had lost all track of any possible time scale. The lights were messing with his eyes and his brain. And the long stretch of silence was getting old, quickly.

He turned his sore vision on to the man sitting directly in front of him. Nick had closed his eyes a little bit ago, his head falling forward so his chin was on his chest. It wasn't clear if he was sleeping or just resting. But whatever he was doing, Warrick wasn't about to do the same. He would keep a look out for anything that might come their way.

The temperature beyond the halo of yellow heat was chilly, blowing in cold burst of air at different intervals. Warrick wondered if it was from the air conditioner unit, but the building looks like it wouldn't have been able to support one. It was one good rain blast away from oblivion. And he was sure that's what Tenner had been planning on. He could kill them and the building would be their makeshift graves.

An itch irritated the dark flesh above his left eye. He tried to blink and scrunch up his forehead to get to it. Nothing seemed to have the ability to make it go away. Warrick had always been told by his grandmother that if he didn't think about something, it would go away. Hadn't worked for Tenner yet, but he was willing to try it for an itch.

So, thinking on something different, he was taken back to that monologue that Nick had given him. It had been troubling hearing the talk about the guns and heads thing. He had never thought he would ever hear that tone, that loss of emotion, from Nick on something like that. And when they walked away from this, he was going to let the other man know he would never be listening to that again.

Another blast of chilled air slammed into his legs. It seemed to have the ability to go right up the pant leg of his jeans without hesitation. And it was the worst when it hit the sensitive skin behind his knees. Looking over at Nick, he could see the shivers run through the warmer blooded man.

Getting frustrated, Warrick decided to work at the gag some more. It had gotten looser since the last time he had tried and it would give him something to do to ignore the different itches popping up all over his face and skull. His tongue was tender, but it worked when he told it to push at the cloth.

The corners of his mouth were raw from the rubbing, but he would get over it. Some lotion or something would make it all better. Tina would know exactly what to do to fix it. He would look as good as ever once his wife was done fixing him up after this. Yeah, no thinking of no after this.

Most of the cloth was stuck between his lips now. Warrick moved his lips back and forth as best he could, pushing the annoying obstacle further away from his mouth. The knot was digging into the back of his skull, but it was just another thing he pushed aside. Most of the gag was out of his mouth.

He wiggled his jaw back and forth, using both tongue and lips in the process as well. Warrick could only feel a little bit of the gag. It was settling down into the valley below his bottom lip and on top of his chin. And he felt perfectly fine with that. His mouth was no longer blocked.

Moving his tongue around and thinking of his grandmother's fried chicken, Warrick was able to produce a little saliva. His mouth felt like it did after he went to the dentist and they had shoved as many balls of cotton as they could in as they could. But he was getting some moisture. It burned a little as he swallowed it down his throat. But it was enough.

"You good Nick?" It was nothing more than a gravely croak, but it was understandable. And it got the other man to react.

Nick lifted his head, a deep groan accompanying it, "Oh yeah, sure."

"Uh huh. What? Honesty something you forgot after your momma taught ya?" Warrick rolled his eyes the best he could with such little natural lubrication in both his eyes.

"Nah, I think I missed that day. And the one to admitting injuries. Must have had a cold or something. Ya know that Texan weather and all."

"Funny."

"I try. And maybe you might want to ask me a real question next time instead of this fine crap."

"Sure. How about how long was it going to take you to notice I could finally snap at your ass. Bad sounding I admit, but it's improving."

And it was. Nick opened his eyes finally, blinking once again against the light, but it was clear he could see Warrick. Those brown eyes went straight to his mouth in wonder that it was true and he hadn't thought of it until Warrick had said something. His lips curved up into a small smile and it made Warrick frown.

"What?" Warrick asked, sounding more like his old self now that he was able to produce more salvia.

"Oh nothing," Nick rocked his head to his right shoulder, "Other than I love that look on you. Nothing beats a wet rag wrapped around your chin."

"Uh huh, wise guy. Should be thanking me for my effort so I can speak to your sorry ass."

Nick's eyes went mock-wide, humbled his mouth, "My apologies, almighty Brown. My deepest appreciation in your abilities to push a gag out of your mouth using your tongue. Skills beyond comprehension."

"You're an idiot, you know that. I swear, you have the attitude of an elementary student sometimes," Warrick smirked, but deep down was glad to hear that Nick still had the ability to joke around in this situation. It helped answer his questions on the other man's well being better than just asking ever could.

"Geez, and here I thought I was your best buddy," Nick pouted out his bottom lip, "And yet you talk to me like that. Nice, real nice. I'll remember that come time to your birthday, pal."

Warrick chuckled deep in his chest, Nick's laughter answering. It was loud and sudden in the room, but it helped to fight off the lights and the chills. Mission accomplished then. It was enough for Warrick.

"Well, I guess if I can get this gag out of my mouth, then I might be able to get these ropes loose."

"Been trying. Think I rubbed my wrists raw."

"Uh huh. Don't mean I ain't going to try too. Just sit back and let the master work," Warrick began shifting his upper torso around, twisting his hands around within the harsh rope.

"By all means, go for it. I'll just sit here and wait. Don't have anything else to do. Rescue me when you're done."

"Like you do anything different any other time. Always sit back and let me do all the work. Just don't jump in and take all the credit for this one. I won't let ya."

Nick laughed and shook his head. He turned his vision off the side as far away from the lamps as he could. There was no denying that hearing Warrick's voice was a big help in dealing with this situation, but Nick still didn't want to celebrate quite yet. But he was perfectly fine ribbing the other man to amuse himself and ignore the situation they were in. It had always worked before, anyways.

Neither said anything for awhile. The only sounds were Nick's soft breathing and Warrick's panting from his twisting around. His chair barely moved, no scraping against the cement underneath the legs. When the door opened it was almost thunderous.

Tenner walked into the room with his hands clasped in front of him, a large smile on his face, "I see that you were able to return your ability for speech Mr. Brown. I have to admit I'm impressed."

Only two cloaked figures followed him into the room, closing the door behind them. Warrick had a better angle to watch them than Nick did, who was craning his neck around on his shoulders. And from the statures of the cloaks, neither of these people was extremely large. If he were able to get free, Warrick was pretty sure he could deal with them quickly.

"Now, we have much to discuss, no? I'm sure you have your questions and I have my answers. Besides, I want you to know what you've been dealing with. You both will go to your graves with the knowledge of how far behind you were in things."

Warrick snorted, "Yeah right. Like what things?"

"I'm sure you've been curious about the serial murders. After all, they were meant to be the bait. I just had no hopes that things would have moved as quickly as they had. My calculations put Nick in my hands after about thirty girls."

"You were going to kill that many?" Nick was shocked at the announcement.

Tenner shrugged and moved closer to the two men. He squinted against the lights. It was irritating and he gestured to one of his followers to do something about it. One jumped forward immediately and switched off two of them. Warrick could feel the chill in the room more now. It was damp.

"Their lives had little meaning to me. They were simply a message. As clear of one as I could send out to you Nick. I had been hoping you would have figured everything out by now. After all, it all comes back to you in the end."

Biting his teeth together, Nick tried to figure out what Tenner was talking about. He didn't know any of the girls, they all had been random from what the lab could tell. And most of the places they were discovered at he had never been to before or just driven past them. None of it went in with his normal daily schedule.

"I can tell your thinking about it, but I know you Nick. You're making it too complicated. Simplify it. Just think on the basics of it all. Don't go too deep," Tenner instructed as he stood behind Warrick's left shoulder.

"No hints?" Warrick sneered over his shoulder, but kept his green eyes locked on Nick's face. He was going to give him all the non-verbal support he was able to.

"No. If he, even you, thinks on this well enough, it will all be clear. I would have never done it otherwise. I wanted it all to fit back to Nick in some way. He is the one I needed anyways. My history needs his demise in it."

"You and your crazy shit!" Warrick burst out, "If it's not mythic gods, you're going on about cosmic history and crap like that. I mean come on. How fucking stupid can you be?"

Warrick couldn't move and didn't even see the fist flying from the older man. It his squarely into the flesh just below his ear. And it hurt. Warrick gasped and dropped his head forward, an odd ringing taking up in his brain.

"You have always been a problem. Even before you talked when it wasn't needed. No matter what you do here Warrick, you will not help him in the end. He is mine."

Eyes wide, Nick couldn't help, but to stare at Tenner. He was so sick of it all and really couldn't figure out how this man thought he had ownership over the CSI. Before the last time, Nick Stokes and Jacob Tenner weren't even aware of the others existence.

"Well, he's my best friend so I'll do anything for him that I can. Nothing you can do will stop that," Warrick glared defiantly at the older man.

"Oh, I think there is something I can do to get it to end."

Tenner took a step back and pulled a gun from a holster than neither CSI had seen when he had entered the room. It was easy to make out in the light the one lamp produced, black and deadly. The end of the barrel fit nicely against the back of Warrick's skull. "I think I trump this one."

"Alright! Stop! You wanted to fill us in on what you've been doing, so talk!" Nick burst out, panic clouding over his words even though he tried to hide it.

The gun eased back a little, still close enough that it touched the ends of Warrick's hair, "You would die for his life, wouldn't you Nick? I have to say, that's a rare thing to find in today's society."

"He'd do the same for me. Just tell us whatever it was you were going to."

Hesitating for only a moment longer, Tenner pulled the gun away, the barrel now pointing to the ceiling of the room. His face was blank as he studied the pleading look Nick pushed his pride away to give. Tenner already knew he would be able to use the two against each other, but this was better than he had been hoping for.

"Alright. I won't mess with your _friend_, as long as he behaves. And I'll tell you the good stuff. But I need his word first."

It was a hard thing to ask of his strong willed friend, but Nick knew it was their only option at that moment, "Warrick, tell him what he wants to here. We don't need to win this battle."

Taking a deep breath, Warrick understood well enough. It still pissed the hell out him. He really didn't want to agree, let alone submit, to anything the man said. But he had to admit, it felt a lot better having the gun pointed away from his head.

"Fine. I'll behave," he chewed out around his tight lips.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Tenner placed the gun back in the holster that Nick could now see was on his left hip, "But I did say I would tell you and I will."

Another hand wave and one of the cloaked figures jumped forward again. This time the person carried a new plastic chair, identical to the ones Nick and Warrick were tied to. The back of this one faced away from the light so Tenner would be able to focus his eyes better than the two CSI's were.

"Now, as I mentioned before, this is all connected back to you Nick. You managed to survive and get away from me before. And that was all very impressive. I really thought I had you down, but you bounced right back. So, I knew I had to go away for a little while. I couldn't risk being caught by some police officer here in Vegas."

"So you did leave?"

"And you didn't bother to tell Johnson about it," Nick added to Warrick's question.

Tenner raised an eyebrow, "I should have guessed you would have gone and see him. After all, his cousin had joined my ranks. But no, Charlie didn't know anything about this new movement. I didn't feel the need to keep in touch with him since he had been dumb enough to get himself arrested."

"You left him to rot," Warrick leaned back in his chair, "Not too much loyalty on your end, huh?"

"Not once you are in jail, no. I have no desire to deal with someone on the inside. It simply makes it easier for them to slip up and mention my name. As long as he thinks I'm gone, anyone who asks him will believe. No polygraph test would be able to work on something he doesn't know."

"Where did you go?" Nick frowned.

"Not too far away, but I won't tell you exactly where. I do have to get back there when this is all complete. Then I will leave the country, but not until you're dead. So, that is one thing you won't get to know specifics to."

Sighing, Nick knew to give that one up. He was sure given enough time, the lab would be able to find something that would lead them to wherever Tenner was hiding at. If it was close enough, something would come up eventually. "What about the girls?"

"Well, completely random. No real lives to me. They were just bait and CSI took the hook, no problem. And with the members I have working for me now, it really wasn't much of a problem getting so many done in so few days. But there were insurance policies in place of course."

Warrick shifted his jaw around trying to shift the gag still stuck on his chin, "Such as?"

"Well, if they were caught in anyway, they were to kill themselves. I do believe you Nick were lucky enough to see that in person."

Flashes back to the highway with the man with blonde hair. The words he had screamed out would haunt some of his new dreams, he knew that. Caleb Johnson had killed himself on orders from this man to do so if he were caught in any way by the police.

"I see that Nick's caught on. Yes, Caleb followed order like he was supposed to. Put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. That was they way I told them all to do it."

Nick's face went suddenly pale, "Just like Kelly."

"Exactly, just like Kelly. Her father and she were both members in a fashion. Gordon never actually came to see me personally, just contacted me after Silvia told him what I was looking to do. It was the perfect opportunity for him to get some revenge for his daughter. He contacted me. She came after."

"How did you get her?" Nick had to know.

"She came to me, at that place. Silvia Mullins had told her what had really happened and what was going to happen now. I promised to help Kelly if she agreed to help me. She wanted to get back at Silvia for what she had done with Gordon and I wanted to get a hold of you. I really hadn't expected for her to kill herself, but she did, and the correct way at that."

Opening his mouth once, twice, Warrick had to question, "But why the gun shot to the head?"

"Come now Warrick. Surely you can figure that one out all on your own. I saw the same things you did. The gun, the desperation. Didn't you tell him to put it down?"

"_Hey!" Warrick looks down at the glass, unable to see through it. But he can't help, but to feel excited that they had finally found the Texan. _

"_Hey!"_

_His hands scrap against the Plexiglas, clearing away as much of the dirt as he can. They are shaking, but Warrick doesn't let that stop him. He is so close. Nick is right in front of him now, not behind some computer screen that he can't reach through._

"_We got you, man. Hey, Nicky!"_

_Nick must have just heard him because his hand suddenly slaps against the lid of the coffin. It was stark white, but Warrick was just glad Nick could still move his arm like that. There were some jerky motions, enough to wipe away from of the condensation off so he could see the blurry face of his friend, red and irritated from the ant bites_

"_Nicky! Yeah! Hey, hold on there!"_

_More dirt is moved, more condensation wiped away from the inside. What Warrick can see now makes his heart stop for a moment. He had known that was in there with Nick. It shouldn't have been as shocking, as scary as it was._

"_Hey, put that down! Put that down," Warrick orders through the barrier. He sees Nick shaking, crying in pain and fear at what he had been through. It broke his heart, but he wasn't about to let Nick shoot himself with that gun._

"_Put that down. We got you. We're gonna get you outta here."_

_Warrick was beyond relieved when the gun fell from Nick's hand to fall onto the glass over his right shoulder. It was out of place and he doubted that Nick would be able to find it again if he needed to. The danger was passed for now. Just had to get him out of the box now._

"_Hang in there."_

"You saw that and used it," Warrick breathed out quietly.

"I thought it fit. I almost had Nick dead there, with the gun until you came in and saved the day. It should be the way my people killed themselves if they got caught. One link to dead Nick here."

"But why?" Nick shook his head, suddenly remembering the feel of that steel barrel pressed against the soft flesh under his chin. It hadn't been as scary as he has thought it would have been. But at the time, anything was better than ants.

"Why not? I mean, everything with these deaths has something to do with you. The suicide with gun shots to the head was perfect. Though I really didn't think Kelly would ever do it. She really wasn't that strongly in yet and only heard about that once. I guess she knew there was no way out and wanted to leave you with a special little memory of her."

Tenner leaned forward in his chair, his elbows coming to rest on his thighs. He looked excited, completely absorbed in the sick acts he was telling them. People were killing themselves because Tenner told them to and how to do it. It was sick.

"And as for the girls, well. I had to come up with something special for them. Didn't want to use the same method, bullet to the head. So, I thought about it a little longer and figured it out. But I didn't have that many knives to had out. We stuck with bullets."

"_It has been said that the only thing a knife truly hungers for is blood, and it takes much to sate it."_

_The elderly man stopped for a dramatic effect, though it was lost to Grissom and Warrick. They could care less for theatrics at that moment. All Warrick knew was Tenner was slowly walking over towards his partner._

"_That is what they are made for. To hurt, to kill. Tell me something I don't know."_

"_But you see Mr. Brown. Knives have many aspects in the world besides mindless killing. But I am afraid none of those reasons will play in here. My gods are growing impatient and your cop friends are snooping in areas best left alone. It is time to end this. Nick dies now."_

_Warrick threw his body forward at the man as he moved to kneel by Nick's prone body. It caused the chair to tip forward, throwing the tall CSI He grunted as his upper body knocked into Tenner, tipping the crazy man down. His knees slammed hard into the cement, the seat of the chair bruising his flesh. But the knife was away from Nick._

"_You fool!" Tenner scramble to his knees, kicking at Warrick. The black man was still tied to the chair, but he was now leaning forward on the ground. His dagger had been knocked from his hand at the hit. Tenner looked for it and saw it about three feet to his right._

_Grissom watched as Tenner pawed at the knife while Warrick tried to move pinned between floor and cement. It was a losing battle for his CSI. Tenner soon had his hand wrapped around the handle and pulled the steel towards his body. _

"_Warrick!"_

_The blade swung out, directly towards his face. Warrick threw his weight to the side, the chair going with. All the air was knocked from his chest at the awkward fall. But the knife didn't reach his flesh at all._

"_That was very stupid of you Mr. Brown. Once I finish with Nick, you will see no more light."_

_Lying on his side, Warrick was now helpless once again, "No! Don't!"_

"_No more words to save any of you."_

_Tenner crawled over to Nick and leaned forward. His lips rested about an inch from the Texan's ear as he reached out his free hand to touch the clammy skin. It would be at least another thirty minutes for the toxin to finish the job. He knew he didn't have the kind of time anymore._

_Light reflected off the blade as he raised it, looking towards the ceiling, "Deimos, Phobos. Great gods of Fear and Panic. I offer you this sacrifice and hope it pleases you. He dies in fear. He dies in pain."_

_Time stood still as the blade cut through the air. It was almost beautiful. Warrick opened his mouth, but sound was caught in his throat. A shout sounded from Grissom, but it was not enough. A rip, slurp, and thud filled the room now._

_A laugh sounded from Tenner as he removed his hand from the hilt, buried completely in Nick's lower back. It quivered a little from the action. Nick never moved. Warrick screamed out in denial._

Nick shook his head, "The gunshot to the lower back…it was because you did that to me, with the knife."

"Yes, I thought it was appropriate. It was supposed to kill you, but you made it away from it. And I have to admit, when we tried just the single shot to the first girl, she didn't die right away like she was supposed to either. It was messy and we had to listen to her screams. I made changes to it and never witnessed another one after that."

"So you shot them in the back of the neck as well?" Warrick growled deeply.

"Yes. I had them shot first in the lower back, for the first wound. Then in the back of the neck."

"But…but you never did anything to the back of my neck," Nick was confused as he tried to unlock those forbidden thoughts of that day, "Not that I can remember."

Tenner smiled, "Don't worry about trying to remember that one Nick. It really doesn't have anything to do with that event. That was to predict the future."

"What?"

"That's how I'm going to kill you this time. It is the only window to your future that will ever get from me in this one. Otherwise, I plan on using the past as much as I can. Now, I don't know about the two of you, but I need a drink and a break. But I really don't want to let you two have the ability to sit here and talk it over anymore. No, I need to separate the two of you."

Shaking his head, Warrick panicked a little, "No. Leave us here. Just turn the damn lights back on or something."

"No," Tenner pushed himself to his feet and stood back as the two cloaked figures moved in closer to Nick, standing directly behind him. "Like I said, I have some things from the past that have to happen. This history will be one that will be the most impressive."

Nick didn't fight as the ropes were loosened around his torso. But he didn't move too much, Tenner had the gun back out and pointed right at Warrick's head. He would let them do whatever was planned as long as it kept Warrick alive. They pushed him to his feet, his hands scraping uncomfortably against the back of the plastic chair.

"Don't worry Nick. No one dies yet. I have to break you first. That might take some time. Time that I'm willing to deal with."

He was pushed from the room, back into the dark hallway. After all that time in the bright lights, he really couldn't see anything in front of him. Nick had to rely fully on the four hands guiding him along. It was a short walk before he heard another door opening.

"Now, enjoy Nick. I will come get you soon. I promise," Tenner whispered into his ear as a piece of cloth fell over his eyes. Whatever light Nick was able to pick up was gone now that the blindfold was tied into place. He had no use of his eyes or his hands now.

A small push was enough to get him to move four steps forward where he slammed into a wall. The door shut hard behind him. He was alone, only his breathing keeping some noise in the room. Nick straightened himself up and walked a few steps to his left. A wall. More steps to his right. Another wall. It was a closet of some sorts.

Panic welled up, but Nick fought it down. He was in a small enclosed space. His eyes and hands were unusable. But he was above ground. There was only the whiff of dirt. These were walls.

Something was on his right hand suddenly. Nick yelped and jumped around. It kicked up the ground around him. Dirt filled the air now. More things fell onto his clothes, his skin. And they moved. They moved towards his face.

TBC…


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Alright. Going in the right direction. Check. No one lost or too confused. Check. People mad at Tenner. Check. Seems that we are good to forge ahead. Thanks for reviewing and letting me know I wasn't going off the map with this one yet. That's the main reason I ask for them. I really don't want to do anything that people are going to sit there and look at their screens thinking 'dang, that author has completely lost her rocker!' Anyways, here's another chapter! Took long enough to edge out things with it. This story is pretty much finished, but I'm still pounding out some rough edges on it. So yeah, nothing like working on something never ending! Hope you all enjoy! Bye!

**Chapter 26:**

_**Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back -- in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.**_

_**-Frederick Buechner**_

"What did you do?"

It was a direct question, nothing more. And it was similar to most of the questions the man asked when he was looking at you like that. But for some reason, it really didn't sit well with Catherine. She wasn't about to take anything from him, didn't matter who he was.

"I don't know what you're talking about Gil. I just had a conversation with Conrad."

Grissom lowered his chin, he eyes looking at her through his top lashes, "And I take it that conversation had to involve your fist?"

"It was a strong possibility," Catherine squared her shoulders, her chest thrust forward, "And it just so happened that it did occur."

The two stood in the hallway in front of the conference room, both looking the other down. Grissom had his arms across his chest, face neutral with disappointment. He had heard through the quickest grape-vine in history on what had happened back in the lab director's doorway. And Hodges had made sure he heard everything that the lab technician had been as lucky to witness as he walked back to his trace lab.

Catherine threw her arms out, "What! You gonna lecture me right now on how to deal with Conrad? By all means, go right ahead, but that doesn't mean I'm going to sit here and listen. No amount of text book reading is going to let you talk me into any apology to him. He had it coming."

"That may be so, but you shouldn't have done it. The last thing we need right now is for Conrad to send you home because of this. You need to rest, but I can't afford to lose you on this. We still have work to do."

"Yes we do. So, we're going to pretend this never happened and move on with things," Catherine pushed her way past Grissom and walked into the conference room. She picked her favorite chair and sat in it. Shifting it so it faced the door, Catherine linked her hands in her lap and gave an expecting glace at Grissom.

The older man sighed, reaching up with his right hand to rub at his bearded chin, the stubble rasping. He knew when he was beat, but he was going to make sure to bring this up later. This could spell bad things for graveyard and trouble wasn't what any of them would need anytime soon.

"The others should be here soon. Until then, I recommend you sit there and calm yourself. We have a lot of things to go over. And I have Vartann coming as well," Grissom ordered as he took his own seat at the head of the table.

"The sheriff getting into this?" Catherine asked.

"Not that I know of. No one wants the media involved in this. As for as I know, it's all internal. And I would like it to stay that way for as long as possible."

"Stay what way for as long as possible? I don't know about you, but I get really bad cramps if I hold one position for too long," Greg stated as he entered the room, blowing on his coffee as he walked.

Grissom shot his a look, causing the other man to shrug in apology, "Not what we're talking about Greg. Just take a seat and we'll get started as soon as we can."

"All the cops are right down the hallway. Talking about something. Sam was whispering quite loudly. Something about Vartann coming in."

Neither of the more experienced CSI's reacted to the comment. They simply sat and watched the younger man sip at his coffee. Both could hear the three detectives walk into the room, conversing with Sara. The four took seats around the table and fell silent.

Brass cleared his throat, a deep coughing noise, "So, what we got? Anyone know where the guys are?"

"I want to wait to hear from Vartann. Anyone know when he's going to get here?" Grissom rocked gently in his office chair.

Hard footsteps stopped in the doorway, causing everyone to look, "What? No one can wait a few seconds? I was working you know."

Detective Vartann had his hands on his hips, his dark hair slightly in disarray, flattened in certain areas. Dark circles were under his eyes, frown lines in stark contrast to his slightly pale complexion. His clothes were winkled, covered in different spots with dark dirt. All in all, the detective looked like shit.

"Yeah, someone keeping Vegas on the up and up, huh?" Vega slapped his hands down on the chair arms.

Brass breathed out heavily, his eyes falling shut for a quick moment, eyebrows raising all in one action, "Sure. And he's just the man to do it."

Grabbing the empty chair in the room by the back, Vartann simply nodded and took a seat. He knew they would be asking him questions. He only hoped he would have the answers they were looking for or needed.

"So, where are we? Anyone have any clue as to where either of them might be?"

No one answered at first, but Grissom was the one to respond first, "No, we don't. But we have been working with the information and evidence that we do have."

"So, who's going to fill us in on it? I really don't have clue as to what has been going on," Sophia leaned on her elbows on the table top.

Looking around, Sara sat straighter in her chair and plunged ahead, "Well, I went over the photos and reports from several of the serial murders…And from what I found, the patterns of the shooting and the style of gun predicted by Bobby are consist. I believe that we are dealing with a group of organized people."

"And the bullet that was used by Caleb Johnson did match a bullet used in the first murder that we found," Greg added quickly before he lost his moment.

Catherine stretched out her hands onto the table, her fingers drumming softly, "And from what we know from when Nick talked with Brass," she nodded at the mentioned detective, "It is believed it is a group of people under the orders of Jacob Tenner."

"I'd have to agree to that in a degree," Vartann's deep voice cut into the discussion, "I was there when Warrick gave himself over during the hostage situation we had going with one of the suspects caught in process of murdering on of the girls and he was a suspect from the Church of God case. He was present then as well. It's beyond my doubt that he would hook up with that man again if he were to start something up now."

"Did any of you talk with the girl after that?" Vega asked, a deep frown on his face.

"I did actually," Vartann spoke again, "I went with the ambulance when she was taken to the hospital. It was before I went to the meeting in Jim's office. It was brief and she wasn't really able to speak to me too much. All she said was that the man had grabbed her from her garage when she was getting out his car. He told her to be quiet, that she was going to die. And it was meant to be a calling card. Her death was to be part of something she would never be able to comprehend. Her death would be history in the making. A dayshift CSI took over as I was leaving."

Grissom's elbows rested on the table top now, fingertips resting together in front of his lips, "Do you know who it was?'

"Didn't see them, but it shouldn't be all that hard to get the name. I'll do it right after we leave here."

"But why would we have two suicides?" Greg leaned back, his coffee cup left abandoned.

"Caleb Johnson ran when Nick and I came upon him in that alley way. We were able to track him and follow him onto the freeway," Sophia looked towards the far corner of the room, "And he stopped, got out of his car. It was then he shot himself, daring to cops to make him. He was cornered and took that option to get out of it."

Brass tilted his head slightly to the right, thoughtful look on his face, "And from what I know with Kelly, she took Nick to that parking garage to show him what she did. He didn't tell me anything of what they talked about. Just that she shot herself and he knew it somehow involved Tenner. Nick didn't say anything about her pointing the gun at him or anything. I don't think Kelly took him there for any other reason than to make him watch her die."

"That would make sense," Grissom mentioned almost under his breath, not realizing he was speaking aloud to the room. His hands shifted downward a little, moving his praying hands closer to his chin. Deep lines crinkled in the corners of his eyes and his forehead.

"What would make sense?" Catherine questioned, her own frown matching everyone else's that was currently present in the room. She knew Grissom had something and she wanted to know what it was.

The lead CSI was caught off guard with the sudden question. He looked up and from the looks he was getting from the seven different people in the room, he spoke aloud when he hadn't meant to. And now he was going to have to tell them what he did. "It goes back to when Kelly stopped in the lab to see Nick. When he was off on the McBride case."

"You did tell Nick about that right?"

The look he received from Sara was almost condescending, "Yes, of course. In fact, the receptionist sent him to me. Kelly left a note for him."

"What did it say?" Catherine slapped her hands down onto the table, most likely harder than she meant to by looking at the slight grimace she gave right after.

"She simply told him she wasn't taking it with him," Grissom took a deep breath, "I honestly don't know what that means. It was a note telling Nick that she hadn't taken it with her and that she wanted him to know."

He turned his eyes away from Catherine, avoiding hers. The blonde CSI was piercing him with a gaze and he got another studying look from the blonde detective. Grissom couldn't look anywhere, at anyone. It seemed they all knew he was leaving something out.

Catherine called him on it, "There was something else. Wasn't there."

No question to answer. It was a statement right down to the letter.

"There was a postscript on the bottom. I didn't feel Nick needed to read it. I tore it off before Nick had time to come to my office. And I threw it away, didn't want to risk him finding it."

"What did it say?"

Grissom looked down at the shine in the middle of the table, "But you will take it with you. It will come back."

No one said a thing. A needle dropping from the heavens would have sounded like an atomic bomb in that room. It even sounded like everyone stopped breathing. Grissom dared to look up, but no one was looking his way.

"He took Nick. Kelly was in on it," Catherine said quietly.

Brass looked at her, "What?"

"She was a patient of Mullins. So was Tenner. They all were. Somehow, Gordon and Tenner knew each other. Kelly was warning Nick of what was coming."

"But why would she kill herself if she was warning him?" Greg was confused.

Sophia glanced at Brass, "She must have thought he had the full note, knew what it all said. He went to her and she took that as a sign he didn't care about what might happen. She was going to kill herself whether or not he came to her. It was just lucky that he did, not knowing what was coming."

"But why take Warrick?" Vartann was angry, but he couldn't figure out exactly at whom.

"He was simple. He was in the right spot," Vega added, "And Tenner would have experience with the two of them. I'm sure Tenner knew that he could use Warrick to get Nick in case the thing with Kelly didn't work out. We just have to figure out how Kelly and Tenner knew each other and what their plan was."

Sara couldn't help, but to look at Grissom in shock as she spoke, "Perhaps they met through the doctor. Maybe Walter Gordon had something to with it."

"Well, we won't know for sure since three of those people are dead and one is currently unable to be located," Brass said slowly, "But if we can find Tenner, we can put all the pieced together."

"That's if we can find him. And I don't think it'll be so easy this time," Sara slumped back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Yeah, no church this time," Greg mimicked her, "No big red dot on the map. Sucks."

No one answered, but three of the detectives couldn't help, but to hide smiles at the youngest man's comments. Catherine didn't bother. She grinned full out, worry etched deeply in her eyes. They had a lot of work to do.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Warrick swore up a storm, but no one was listening. He rocked his chair the best he could, but the base was wide. It didn't move far, just shuffled around a few inches here, a few inched there. More swearing had to follow that performance.

He was frustrated. They had taken Nick away and left him alone. And it felt like more hours had passed. Warrick really wished he had a clock where he could see it. Or a window, something. Time had been something he had taken for granted before. Never again.

There were sounds from outside the open doorway. He could hear lowered voices, talking about something. Most likely about their deaths. As much as he wished to hear what they were actually saying, Warrick had no desire to learn about how they were going to kill him before the fact. Surprise might make it hurt less.

'_Sure thing buddy. Now, you're certifiable. You and Nick can be neighbors in the asylum, padded rooms and all.'_

Twisting his raw wrists, Warrick was sure the wet feeling running down on his hands was his own blood. From what he had been doing to them with that rope, there was no way he hadn't ripped open his flesh. It was just his luck, went along with his day. Warrick swore a little more.

Only the one light had been left on, but his eyes felt like a desert had taken up residence in them. Each time his eyelids closed around the eyeball, he was sure he heard a grating noise or something along those lines. And it left them on fire, burning and itching. He was going to spend a lot on eye drops when this was over.

Again he caught himself. Since Nick had been taken away, he had thought like that. When they got out, when this was over, when they could have a beer and shot the shit again. Warrick sighed, his head leaning backwards slightly on his neck. The muscles protested at the movement, but he forced them to act anyways.

Footsteps were moving towards the open door. He didn't even bother to look. They could pass right by, no need to look. But he could tell they stopped in front of that door and turned inside. Someone was walking towards him with slow, calculated steps. And only person around here would do such a thing.

"I'm impressed Mr. Brown. You have handled this so well for as long as you've been here. And now, with the thirty minutes passing since Nick was taken away, impressive. Though I do have to say, I am quite disappointed with the language. What if there had been children here?"

Licking at his dry lips, Warrick managed to shot a glare at the man, "Then I'd say they all would need serious medical help."

"Yes, yes. Funny man. But why worry about it? Nick can't hear you. In fact, I doubt he is paying attention to anything right now."

"What did you do with him?" Warrick snapped as his head rose to its original position.

"He's just taking a small break," Tenner waved his hands around slightly, "Nothing major. In fact, I think I have some audio for you. I have to say, Gordon did have it right when it came to sending you the images through that transmitter. Not something I would have known about. But I do know how to sound bug a room."

Warrick squinted his eyes and watched as Tenner reached into the back pocket of his brown pants. Something silver was pulled out, held in the aged hand. The device made that hand look smaller and Warrick had to wonder how that thing fit in the man's pocket.

"You want to listen? All I have to do is press play and we get to listen."

It was close enough to what he had read in the past that it made Warrick grate his teeth, "Do I really have a choice in this?"

"No, not really. But I thought I'd be polite and ask first."

"Just play the damn thing. Stop doing the games," Warrick sneered.

Tenner rolled his eyes and shifted the small radio in his hand so he could hit the play button. It was full of static and other odd noises. Warrick tried to listen the best he could, but wasn't able to make anything out on it. Something else was twisted on the radio and suddenly the static went away.

"Ah, there it is. Just had to find the right wave we needed. Now, listen."

Panic breathing. Stomping. Whimpering. Something slamming into something else.

"What are you doing to him?"

A small cry. Another thud.

"Nick!"

"Oh, this isn't a two-way," Tenner was watching Warrick's face intently, "He can't hear you at all. Nick's all alone right now."

A louder cry this time. Some pleading words mumbled so thick that Warrick could only make out the Texas accent. A hard stomp.

"I don't get it. Why do you have to do this? Nick never did shit to you. Why?"

"You really think I need a reason," Tenner's voice suddenly went deep, dark, "How about I just want to do this? Is that good enough for you?"

Warrick sat stunned for a moment, listening to the panicked moans from the little radio, "You…you didn't mean to do this?"

"This? Yes, this I meant to do. What happened before…," Tenner's lips puckered out, his head tilted for side to side for a couple beats, "Well, let's just say things came together. And then things just kept coming. It's not my fault that Nick just can't die."

"Oh yeah, that's such a bad thing."

Reaching out to grip hard at Warrick's chin, Tenner turned mean, "It is from my side! Things wouldn't have to been like this. All I needed was for him to die. He didn't. Then look at what happened. Suddenly everything I had was destroyed, pulled down. I was a mockery of everything, everyone. And that wasn't going to work."

"All we did was live, escape. You let the cops figure it all out. Not us."

"Yes, Vegas' finest. But none of you could figure out this new wave. In fact, I know no one has left the crime lab in over two hours. They have locked themselves inside, dwelling away on facts they don't have. There is nothing they can put together to find you."

"You're watching the lab?"

"Of course. I'm not stupid. All I need is for them to take long enough so I can kill the two of you. Then they can come here if they wish. Though all that will be left will be some bones."

A chocked off scream stopped Warrick from snapping again at the man. He focused his attention on the radio. Nick was trapped somewhere and it sounded like someone was doing something to him. Tenner had no intention to let them see the light of another day.

"What have you done with him? Who's with him?"

"No one's with him. Why do you think all I want to do is physical hurt you two? If you would have done as I said before, there would have been no need for any pain."

"Bullshit," Warrick chuckled, head shaking, "You'd 've done it anyways. You wanted Nick to hear over the phone, just like you want me to hear this over that radio."

"See, you know more than you let on. I'm sure if you really thought hard, you could put some more things together. Like these lights. They aren't here so I can see every one of your nose hairs. No, they belong to Nick as well. I told you both I was going to use the past. And I plan on it. It was in my past that you beat me and now I am going to use it against you."

"You were dumb enough to get found out the last time! You got lucky and got away. Hell, if you wanted to use the past, where's Grissom? Huh? He was there with us then as well. Why don't you have him locked up here with us?"

Tenner looked affronted, "I don't see why I should have to deal with that man again. He wasn't of much use. And he was supposed to be blown up with Gordon."

"So yeah! You lost that round, neither of them died. So, again, how come he isn't here with us? He beat you twice as well."

It was enough for Tenner to throw the radio at him. Warrick tried to turn his head away, but it impacted hard with his right eye. He held in his groan of pain. Despite the pain, he kept his ears open. As bad as it was to hear, he was glad to listen to Nick's confusing rambles.

"I don't care anything for your supervisor. Not anymore. His usefulness to my means is no longer in place. All I need now is Nick and you will help aid that along. Both of you will crumble."

"So you've said before."

"Yes, and I'm sure I'll say it plenty more before this is over. Now, since you seem to be in such a hurry to die, let's move this along. I see the worry and pain of your wife means nothing to you. She shall receive one of your eyes perhaps as a parting gift. We'll have to see."

Tenner turned without another word and left. Watching him for only a moment, Warrick looked down at the radio waiting for something. The cries, the whimpers were gone. He didn't know how worried he should have been with that one. Cocking his head slightly, Warrick tuned his ears a little more and could hear a slight whispering. It was enough.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Tiny bodies darted around his skin. They moved up and down his body. Some swarmed to the opening of his mouth, but were easily blown away with a hard breath. A large group had taken up residence throughout his brown hair.

Nick tried throwing his body into the walls. The impacts had been hard, drawing small cries from his throat. The whimpers, as much as he would have liked, had nothing to do with the sudden bursts of pain. No, those solely belonged to the small things crawling over him.

But he had to feel somewhat better. No small teeth, pokers, or anything of that sort had pierced his skin yet. All these things did were to walk along over the small hairs covering parts of his body. Nick couldn't tell what they were. Some felt small, some larger. He was confused.

After the initial long panic attack, Nick had calmed down enough to attempt to get out of the room. He was still on his feet and that alone made him feel better. And after a couple of hits to the plaster walls, the blindfold had shifted a little. But the room was dark as well so it really didn't matter all that much. Nick just wished he had the use of his hands.

If Tenner was trying to redo the coffin scene, he shouldn't have had his hands tied any longer. Gordon had undone the tie. He had given Nick light as well, in two different forms even. And…his gun.

Nick shook the thoughts of his weapon off and started to talk to himself, occasionally spitting out an offending body from his mouth. One had managed to get between his teeth, the crunch loud in his ears. Something in the form of a liquid had slashed on his tongue, a horrible taste along with it. Nick was determined not to repeat that one.

Time had passed. He knew that. But he was at a loss as to how much. For all he knew, Tenner was going to leave him to die right there. His body would provide the food for his tiny army that was making up posts in different areas of his t-shirt at the moment.

"I'm Nick Stokes. I'm Nick Stokes. I'm a CSI, Level three. I will survive this. Panic one moment, survive the next."

Rolling his closed eyes under the cloth, Nick wondered if that sounded as stupid to the tiny creatures as it did to himself. He was pretty sure it. Willing to put money on it even.

The door opened before he could set out the wagers and make his own suggestions to the picks. Hands grabbed at him and Nick was more than willing to let them do what they needed. He was pulled sideways, proving he hadn't known where the door was after all.

Nick was pushed and shoved until he was brought to a sudden stop. Pointed fingers dug into his upper arm muscle, holding him still. He started to pull at the hand, but was frozen, literally, by a larger force. Freezing cold water hit him square on the top of his head, hard enough to cause his knees to buckle a little. Nick kept his feet, but the water kept coming.

The only relief in it was the fact the small bodies were gone. But the water was running for longer than it needed to be. Every part of his body was soaked. Chills started from his tied hands, working their way up to his shoulders. He was a Texas boy, not meant to deal with that kind of temperature.

"Feeling better Nick?" Tenner was close to him again, right in front of him. The water stopped as the man finished his muted sentence. Nick couldn't help, but to shake his head, hoping some of the water got on the older man at least.

"Ju..just gr..great," Nick stuttered past his cold lips which he was sure were blue.

"Good to hear it. Now, let's go back to see your friend. I have to wait just a little longer, but don't worry. Soon, you'll be dead."

Nick just nodded, "Glad t..to hear it..t."

They started to walk. Nick just let them lead. It wasn't the moment to try anything. No, he would wait. Almost up to the point of his death, he would wait.

TBC…


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Yes, I know. I'm late. Had a fight with real life and well, it won. Long story short, I hate spider bites and hospitals. Anyways, here's a nice long chapter for the wait. I pounded something out in it a little more and I hope it makes plenty of sense. Thanks for sticking with me as always. And, if you got some time, let me hear from ya! More soon. Bye!

**Chapter 27:**

_**Do not take life too seriously. You will never get out of it alive.**_

_**-Elbert Hubbard**_

Nick hummed as he walked. He was cold. It was settling into his joints, making them feel old and tired as he moved. But they kept him at it. They were taking him back to the room with the lights. Nick couldn't really remember at that moment why those were important, but they were.

The shorter, older man was in front of him. He would glace back at the CSI every now and then. That smile was sly, almost seductive. It made Nick nauseous, queasy at the thought. All he wanted to do was turn and run. But he couldn't do that. Not here and now.

It seemed like miles. His feet were heavy, weighted down with sloshing cold water filling his boots. Thoughts went in and out of his head at rapid speed. The world around him went in and out, shifting to places far away. Nick would have sworn it was the Twilight Zone. But he was more tempted to go with the horrible story of his own life.

His eyes answered the question for him first as to when they were going to finally reach that damn room. For another lost moment, Nick could see a bright light, his own feet twitching away in front of it. It kept all fresh air away from him. Nick gasped, his frozen hand reaching up to slam into his chest. There was nothing, but dirt and ants now.

"Well, it would see the room is working quicker than even I had hoped. I figured it would have taken at least two days for this kind of reaction. Even I didn't know you had it so rough down there in that hell."

Nick gasped again, his vision completely white. There were hands on his arms, but they weren't trying to help him out, trying to turn out that light. No, these were holding him into place, offering him on a platter to the ants and their poison.

One of those hands got a little rough with him. The nails dug into the soft flesh of his underarm. It shook him out of his lost memories. Nick gasped again, this time from the latest cruelty he was subject to. Now he could see that the light was larger, higher. He wasn't on his back. And Warrick looked down right panicked.

"I'm okay," Nick pushed out in a wheeze, coughing a little behind it.

Warrick's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say what really wished to, "Good to hear it."

"Yes, yes," Tenner got all dramatic, his arms sweeping outwards, "We're all glad to hear it. Now, let's get back down to business."

Letting his body be moved, Nick simply worked on getting one chilled foot in front of the other. Beneath the sudden heat the lamp provided, he could feel the weight of Warrick's stare. It was comforting to know the other man was there and able to give him that annoying look. Nick knew that meant Warrick was still hanging in there.

"What? You give him a shower or something?"

"Something," Tenner sneered and sat in his own chair to wait as his two hands worked away at getting Nick secured once more in the only open chair left in the room. One light was still the only one on. Tenner couldn't handle the glare from all three of them himself. It was too much for his older eyes.

"Informative. Now, how about some real answers?" Warrick sneered.

"I've been giving you real answers the entire time. I can't help it if you don't wish to absorb them into your brain. That's something I can't help."

"I'd like to know exactly when you went insane."

The two men tore their glares off each other at the soft statement to look at the chilled man that made it. Warrick couldn't help, but to smile at the defiance he could see Nick trying to build up to use against these people. And it was an answer he really wanted to know himself.

Tenner turned on his chair so he was facing Nick directly, "Now why would you ask your host such a question? I've never been saner as I've been right now. Things are perfectly clear and I can finally see my true place in the universe."

"Must have a map that no one knows about then," Warrick leaned back as best he could with his arms still twisted up behind him, "Cause I ain't never heard of some crazy shit like from someone other than a person locked up in a white armless jacket."

"I understand this might beyond your reasoning Mr. Brown, but I cannot take the time to explain it all to you. If you were willing to come with us, join us, then we would have all the time in the world."

"'Til ya convince me to put a bullet in my brain!" Warrick proceeded to ignore the slight twitch that Nick gave at the comment.

"Only if you were to make a mistake. But as a crime scene investigator, I'd hope you would be beyond stupid, pointless mistakes at this point. I'm sure we could get around you putting a bullet into your head. But, I never say never."

Nick coughed a little, his lungs sounding thick, "Sounds like we're in Neverland."

It was a comment that even shut Tenner up. But Warrick didn't like the calculating smile he sent in Nick's direction. It was colder than even before and it made him even more nervous. And Nick didn't even seem to notice it, lost in the chills that he was in.

"Yes, something like that. Never getting old. Pirates, mermaids. A perfect world."

"What?" Warrick laughed out in a huff of air, "Are you really that far off the charts? Children tales is what's getting you through the day? Wow, and I had thought I'd seen it all."

"Oh, you laugh now, but think about it. It is a world free of wars until Wendy and her brothers get involved. There are tiny fights that need to happen, but no one really tries to take over. The young boys live in their peace, while the pirates have theirs."

This was beyond what either CSI was willing to deal with. Here was a man that had tortured them before, almost killed Nick before and now he was talking about a story involving pirates, mermaids, and a fucking ticking crocodile! Warrick started to pull at his ropes again and shot a look at Nick. His partner seemed well aware of the thoughts going through his head because Nick was making his chapped, purple hands start to twist.

"It would help for people in this world to think on such different levels. We split up, each has their own world. But they have to deal together since conflict is what makes the world go 'round. You have to have some sort of fighting. It creates jobs and helps to prove which is the most powerful."

"Yeah, but this isn't a world of make-believe. No one will fall for that kind of stuff," Nick grunted out as he worked his ropes, "It's just an extremely odd form of dictatorship. You'd be killed before you got very far."

"I'm getting far now, aren't I? I mean, I have you two and you two are in my control. I'd say that's a pretty good start."

Warrick bobbed his head a little, "Oh yeah, so true. You have two lowly CSI's in your mitts and suddenly the world will bow to ya. I gotta say, whatever you're taking, you might wanna lay off it a little."

"I put nothing in my body that isn't accepted. I cannot have something not welcome into my future home. It would be plain stupid on my part."

Nick gritted his teeth. He was sure his hands were completely blue, from the chills and from the way he was cutting off all blood to them. All it felt like was that his ropes were getting tighter and tighter as he moved. His pinky was sure to fall off soon, he'd bet on it.

"But why choose that one? Surely there is some other tale that would have worked better? I mean, something like the Fox and the Hound," Nick huffed.

"Or Bambi, you playing the part of his mom," Warrick threw in on a whim.

Tenner shook his head, disappointment written all over his face, "I'd never expect you two to understand while you are still creatures in the flesh, such as it is. But once I release you into the far after, well, then it will be all clear. Then you'll be wishing you could go back to serve me."

"Yeah, like Caleb, or Kelly. I don't think so. You'll never talk me into putting a bullet into my head. Never."

"Nick, Nick. You forget, you almost did. And there was no talking involved. You are weaker than words. When the time comes, you will have a choice to make. It is up to you."

The two cloaked figures suddenly left the room. There was no announcement or command from Tenner. It caused both CSI's to frown deeply. Neither had thought anyone under a cloak could think for themselves anymore. But this might have been the case to prove them wrong.

"Oh don't worry. It's their jobs to check on things for me when I'm otherwise preoccupied. And there are a few things they need to gather. This isn't meant to be a joyful, pleasant thing here. We have much to do. Remember, I want to break you, then kill you. And it shouldn't take too much."

It was silent for minutes. Nick wriggled his hands, but the ropes weren't budging. He was uncomfortable with the looks he was getting from Tenner. The man was looking at him like he was steak dinner.

Footsteps sounded, two figures creeping back into the room. They carried things, but from his angle and due to the lights, Nick couldn't really make out what any of it was. He turned to look at Warrick, but his friend didn't give him anything either. They were going to have to wait and see it seemed.

"Ah good. I would like for you to refresh our dear Texan here. Have to keep him on his toes," Tenner stood and moved away a little bit.

Nick watched him, his attention gone from the other two, for a moment. The new torment of freezing water hit him dead center on the top of his skull. He could almost feel his brains freezing out. And it kept coming.

Some of the water splashed onto Warrick and he felt anger rush through him at the coldness of it, "Hey, stop it. You're going to give him frostbite or something."

It finally stopped. Nick gasped for air, it freezing each time it traveled through his mouth and his esophagus. His clothes were once again soaked. New chills racked his entire frame. But Nick had little time to compliant it. A dark cloth was dropped over his face and pulled tight.

"Just like old times, eh Nick!" Tenner laughed out as he watched. More water was dumped down, plastering the wet cloth tight against the struggling man's face.

"Stop! Let him go dammit! Leave him alone."

Warrick pulled and jerked in his chair. He could see Nick trying to shake off the cloth, his legs kicking out. Several times his feet impacted with Warrick's shins, but he shrugged it off. A couple of bruises would be worth it if Nick lived through this.

"Oh come now, Mr. Brown. Where's your sense of fun? I mean, you know gambling, am I right. You and I could bet on how long it takes for him to loss consciousness."

And that was where Nick was heading. He tried to open his mouth as wide as he could, pulling in soaked air. It left his mouth and lips wet, but nothing really was getting to his lungs. Panic swelled. He bucked as best he could, the chair shifting a little. But a weight suddenly anchored it in place. His struggles got weaker.

"Now, watch this!" Tenner whispered as if he and Warrick were in this thing together, like it was a secret the other man should have to know.

"What the fuck…" Warrick trailed off as he watched the other figure move in, something held in pale hands. It was lumpy, dark. It was dirt.

The cloth was pulled away, the hands suddenly were thrust in front of Nick's face. As the Texan gasped for drier air, all he could take in was the sweet smell of stale dirt. Bile rose in his throat and Nick couldn't stop himself from vomiting to the side of his body. It added to the smells in the room and his head began to swim. The cloth was back and air was hard to find.

With the barrier, the smell was stuck inside his nostrils, clinging to his nose hairs. Nick could taste it now. And it was damp, with water. Not sweat this time, but close enough. It made Nick gasp quicker for damp air. It began to hurt his lungs more and more.

"Leave him alone! This isn't something that needs to happen, you fuck!"

Tenner spared a look to Warrick before nodding his head. The cloth was once again removed, the dirt immediately back into place. But this time, one hand slapped against Nick's face, leaving a brown handprint. Warrick ignored it for a moment and looked into Nick's eyes. He could see the wild panic in those brown orbs. Nick was going to lose it soon if this didn't stop.

It was harsh against his soft, sensitive skin. The hand pushed in into his pores, spreading as much as it could. It clung to him as if he were the only thing left in the world. Nick tried to ignore it and get some air into his lungs. Cramps seized his chest, his lower torso. Sobs escaped with every harsh exhale. And the dirt wouldn't go away. The smell was stronger this time when the cloth was put back into place.

A scream was muffled, but Warrick growled along with it. He was trying to void out the sound with one of his own. Nick was not going to be happy that he did such a thing and Warrick was willing to cover it if he could. He would offer something to the other man since he was worthless and couldn't make this treatment stop.

"I'd say, I would have never thought that would have worked as well. Though, I suppose, if you're buried with it for as long as he was, it would be something you'd really never want to smell again. I wonder if we could get something more out of him. Pull the cloth back."

Nick threw his shoulders forward, trying to angle his head away. His mouth was open, lips flapping to make words, "S.s…sstop, p.p…plea…please."

"Oh, we can't do that now, can we Nick. No, I want to try one more," Tenner this time stepped towards the man on his own, his hand out to receive some of the dirt from the cloaked figure. He bounced his hand a little, the dirt flying up into the air. There was a smile, then Tenner grabbed as much of Nick's hair as he could manage. It wasn't quick, but Tenner still managed to slap his hand across Nick's gasping mouth, the dirt sticking to the man's tongue.

It flew into his throat, Nick gagging and hacking to get it out. This was just like before. Now with the smell, there was the taste. And that damn cloth. Nick coughed against it, pulling it hard back against his lips. No air was coming through this time. Nick tried to keep the dirt from entering his lungs. He would rather just not breathe than to breathe in dirt.

"How can you do this? Just leave him alone. Are you that insane?" Warrick kept talking, not really paying much attention. He just want his voice to be out there, for something for Nick to grab a hold of in his latest nightmare.

Graying teeth from age shown brightly through Tenner's smile, "I think we can do better than this. What's a little pain to all of this, wouldn't you agree Mr. Brown."

"You do it and I'll personally kill you!"

"Like to see you try," Tenner nodded to the person wiping the dirt off their hands. There was a shifting and then the figure was moving. It moved slowly to Nick's right side, reaching out to grip Nick's shoulder and upper arm in the two hands. "Let's see if he can scream now."

Not realizing what was really going on, Nick didn't try to pull away from the hands holding him now. All he could think of was the smell of dirt, how it was eating away at his system. His thoughts were getting slower, darker. He could feel his head falling forward, pulling against the grip on the cloth behind his head. Nick was losing his contact with reality. He was blacking out.

The hands pulled, twisted. There was a rip, a pop. Nick screamed loudly despite the muddy dirt in his mouth and the wet cloth holding air away. His shoulder felt like it was ripped apart. And there was a constant pull. Whoever was doing it, wasn't letting up.

Warrick yelled right along with his friend, "No! Don't!"

Anything, but reality was far away now. Nick arched his neck, veins popping out. His legs kicked, his left foot hitting something soft yet hard. A tug at the cloth pulled it harder for a moment, then it was gone. Nick felt his head snap forward, eyes watering. He spit and spat the best he could, but the dirt was one with his tongue now. All he could do now was to breathe the best he could by attempting to swallow the dirt.

His bright, wild eyes sought out his shoulder. It was gone. There was no shoulder in the conventional meaning of the word. It was nothing more than an odd bump and a slumping down where his arm should be. His shoulder was dislocated.

It had happened before in his life. He had been playing in the big game. His turn at bat had been a good one. Nick hit a home run, running his laps with a smile on his face. One of the other team members had taken it a little too personally. As Nick had turned second base, the short stop suddenly rammed into him, sending the young man down into the dirt. Nick had hit his shoulder wrong, jarring it from the socket. That hurt nothing like this did.

A wheezing cough escaped under a harsh moan. Nick closed his eyes tight and tried to block it all out. But all that did was remind him of the darkness the cloth, the room had given him. His eyes shot open, wide still. They darted around, trying to find something to focus on. Nick found green.

"R…rick?"

"Yeah, man. I'm here Nick. Just try to calm down."

Nick sobbed and laughed all in one sound, "Yea…yeah, s.sure."

"I know. Stupid thing to say, but you gotta try it man. Promise it'll help."

He locked his eyesight onto Warrick and tried to slow his breathing. It hurt, his chest tight from the lack of air from before. And his stomach felt compacted with the little amount of dirt he had managed to swallow. The smell was still there as well. It was hard to ignore, but he was trying. And Warrick could see that by watching the brown eyes with his own.

"That'a way Nick. You're almost there. Then we can figure out what they hell is wrong with your shoulder."

There were a few more gasps and the world around him jolted into sharp contrast. Nick could make out Tenner, smirking to his side. He could see the two cloaked figures that had moved towards his other side, close together. And the damn light was still on full power. Nick pushed past it all, even past the dirt.

"I'm okay. I'm fine."

"Doubt it," Warrick looked pissed, but didn't make a deal out of it, "Shoulder bad?"

Nick tried to shrug, but a pain shot through his body. He somehow had forgotten that a shoulder was used in such a motion. Shaking his head a little, Nick looked hard at Tenner. This was simple torture compared with what had happened before, but it was enough to make his life hell.

"That all you got?"

Hearing Warrick groan in exaggeration, Nick continued to stare at the older man. The sharp pain was dulling and the chill was back. The shaking jarred his shoulder a little, but nothing he couldn't deal with. Nick would just grit his teeth and he would be fine. He just wanted to work at Tenner.

The man took the bait, "You wish for more? I highly doubt that. You screamed enough for that one. I don't even remember that sound from before when we worked with your broken arm. Maybe we could do that…no, I don't want to deal with that. I want you to have full abilities of your arms."

Wiggling the fingers on his good arm, Nick couldn't figure out how that made any sense. His arms were still tied awkwardly behind him. In a way it helped with the pain because it didn't let him make any sudden movements that might pull at the delicate muscles and tendons.

"No, we have more to do. But I fell we have been neglecting Mr. Brown here. I wonder, what can we do with him. My people have already beaten him a bit. There has to be something more," Tenner paced a little, index finger tapping at his chin.

Warrick didn't look intimidated at all. He kept a slight sneer on his lips, eyes wide in challenge. Nick wished he wouldn't do such a thing. Tenner was after him after all. It should be him that was the only to suffer at that man's hands. That was the right thing to do for his friend.

"What you got? Huh? Going to break something, going to pour water on me? I'd think you'd have something better in mind."

It was a jab and it seemed to work. Tenner's smile dimmed a little, anger taking its place, "You really want me to do more to your friend here? I can keep working away on Nick if you really want me to. Or would you like to pound on him this time as well."

That was a low blow and Nick could see on Warrick's face how low it went. It was something that Warrick had been bothered with since the last time in that church. Warrick felt he had lost control over himself and he never could forgive himself for what he did to his friend. His own fists had caused a great deal of those bruises that had been purple on the Texan's face for days.

"Oh, I see that isn't something you like to hear about. No one forced your hand that time. All we did was talk to you. You're the one who struck out with your fists. It would see to me it had been something you've been wanting to do for a long time. I can still remember the look on your face as you hit Nick. It was something of satisfaction."

"No."

It wasn't Warrick's voice the responded, but Nick's. He could see what these words were doing to his friend and he wasn't going to sit there and take it. If it meant more cold water showers and a few dislocations, he would take it.

"Oh Nick, Nick. Nothing you can do or say will take away that guilt. Your friend just keeps adding to himself anyways. He still blames himself for you getting stuck in the basement of my church. And from what I've learned, he still blames himself for what he did to you that day with the box."

"He didn't do anything to me that day. None of that was his fault," Nick spoke to Tenner, but looked at Warrick the entire time.

"You forget, I know things about those few days that you would never expect. Like how I know the two of you flipped a coin for that run. It was luck on my side. It was meant to be, but Mr. Brown here had no idea."

Now it was Warrick's turn to turn a little sick. Him and Nick had talked about things that had happened during that hellish time, but neither had gotten into any deep issues. They each knew the basics and that had been just fine. Now, Nick was hearing about a huge part of his guilt from a man that wanted to be a damn pirate.

"And then he was the one who decided they were to leave the light on for as long as possible. I talked with Gordon, knew what he was planning to do. And I had to agree with him. It was the best way to kill the person inside. Let the people wanting to save him kill him first. Or force his hand."

"_I say we leave the light on."_

The words echoed through Warrick's head. He had been the one to hit it the second time and decide that it was the best option. Hell, if he had been in there, he would have wanted to have the light. Right? Wouldn't that be true?

Thinking back on it now and after what had happened to him with these larger lights here above the ground, Warrick wasn't too sure anymore. Each one wore at the brain, burned at the eyes. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like, in a tight area, a light turning on and off at annoying intervals. Catherine had been wrong. He wouldn't have been able to do it.

"So you see Nick, your friend here is part of the bad luck you hold. He is a gambling man, even if he hasn't been in a casino for a good time. But when he stopped and backed off on winning, he brought a bad luck out. It just so happened to transfer to you and you have taken it to a whole new level. Just something else to blame on your friend here."

"My bad luck as you call it," Nick stated slowly, sounding more like his normal self other than being a little rough around the edges, "Had nothing to do with anything Warrick has ever done to me. He is my best friend and he has helped me through everything. There is nothing you can use against him."

Warrick shook his head, "Nah, he's right Nick. A lot of things are my fault."

"No, you can't mean that!" Nick's eyes went wide, his skin a little more pale. He didn't care a thing about Tenner being in the room. There wasn't anything more that Tenner could really do to them.

"Oh come off it Nick! You know as well as me that a lot of this shit wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me. I could have stopped a lot of it from happening. There were things I could have done."

"Yeah, like what? Jump in that box with me? What good would that have done, huh?"

"I should have stayed in that hole with you until you were out. I should have been there when you dealt with Kelly."

"What if I never wanted you to be there!" Nick suddenly roared, cracking his voice. He gasped as soon as the words were out, eyes open with shock and fear. It wasn't what he had wanted to say. And there was no way he was going to be able to take it back.

Tenner took that moment to make his presence known once more, "Ah, the joys of friendship. Who would have thought friends would build up to each other through hatred. I must admit, that was better than anything I could have done Nick. You know how to go straight to the heart. I'm impressed, that I am."

"No, Warrick! I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

But the other man wasn't looking at him any longer. Warrick had turned his head to the left. His brow was crinkled in an angry frown. Nick could see his lips moving a little, but no words were coming out. And that scared him the most. He had gone too far and now Warrick was going to hate him. He had just lost his best friend.

"Well, Nick, I don't know what to do anymore. I was going to torture your friend for your amusement, but I fear that might not work anymore. Seems to me that you don't care for him all that much. But, I am curious to see how well friendship can survive something like that. I think I'd like to test it."

With a new motion, Tenner shifted away from the two men. Nick watched his with stressed eyes, wondering what new thing was coming. He was blasted with another shower of cold water. The only relief was that it washed away the dirt. Nick opened his mouth quickly allowing the water to rush in and clean off his tongue and gums. But he did notice there were no more words from the other man, his friend.

It wasn't as long this time and Nick had to admit it really wasn't as cold as it was before. Something deep in his mind warned him that it was a bad thing. His body was getting used to the cold because it was getting too cold. And he didn't have the shivers quite as bad as he did before. But he really couldn't think too much about it. He was too busy trying to get Warrick to look at him.

"War..rick. I'm so..sorry. Don't b…be mad.d."

Nothing. Those green eyes didn't look back at him. Nick could feel his lower lip begin to tremble, but not from the cold. He held back the tears he knew were coming. His body was getting so tired, along with his mind. This wasn't something he could fight against if he didn't have Warrick there with him along the way.

"It would look like you are finally on your own in this Nick. And I didn't even have to do a thing. You did it all on your own. I must say, I'm sully impressed at that. Bravo."

Something in the Texan snapped and he lunged forward in his chair, doing nothing more than pulling on his shoulder. A grunt of pain came, but he fought it to get his words out. "You asshole! Why did you have to come back. Couldn't you just die and leave us alone!?"

"Now that's what I want to see. You are beginning to lose that hold on yourself there. It will be soon. You will be asking to die soon. There is nothing more that I want. You would have made a fine soldier in my war, at my side. But, alas, not to be."

The cloaked figures moved again, suddenly coming out of the shadows. Nick couldn't stop the cringe that escaped him when they reached for him. He held in the pain as they lifted him from the chair, his arms getting caught up on the top of the back of the chair. His shoulder was screaming. Even the cold seeping into his center was nothing compared to that.

Softer shoves moved him this time. Nick barely managed to get a glance back at Warrick. His friend wasn't looking at him. Warrick's head was turned in the other direction. His heart dropped down into his frozen feet. Nick didn't fight anymore.

It was all the same now. Darkness, dim. Nick could barely feel the hands on his arms. His nerves were dying, cold. Hope was no longer an option. They were going to die there. And he was going to die without having his best friend. Nick only hoped he were the first to die. He didn't think he would be able to handle it if Warrick died before him with hatred on his once friendly face.

The blind fold was comforting in a way. It blocked out the world. He left himself be shoved forward into that dark room he knew was waiting. Nick slammed into the far wall too soon. Pain caused white bursts to go off behind his closed eyelids. He whimpered as he slid downward.

As much as he didn't wish to touch the ground, he couldn't stop himself. He settled on the dirt, it almost soft under his body. Nick didn't feel the tiny legs as soon this time. But he did have a harder time keeping his mouth closed against him as warm tears soaked the blindfold. He was lost.

!#$&()+!#$&()+!#$&()+

Jim answered his phone with a scowl. He didn't want to be interrupted right now. They were finally getting somewhere. All the information they had on what was happening was now in the same area. And there were four CSI's working over it.

He had always loved CSI work. Even when he left the lab to work as a full time detective, he missed thinking in those ways. Jim knew he had lost a great deal of that when he left. There were only so many opportunities to think as a CSI when you were a police captain.

"Brass."

His voice was dry. They hadn't left the room for at least an hour. Everyone had gone and gotten the information they had and everyone came back. Only Vartann had left to get back out to work. There were two more sudden attacks on women. He had only hoped the other detective had gotten there in time.

And it seemed that he had.

"Where are you? You got him?"

All heads of the six other people in the room turned to him. Someone had dropped something heavy. It clanked on the table, rolling to the floor. Jim held up his hand to hold off the questions that he knew would be coming soon. He didn't want to miss a thing Vartann had to tell him.

"Alright. Be careful and I'll meet up with you soon. Yep, bye."

Grissom stood from his chair, "What has happened?"

"Yeah, who did they get?" Catherine asked with slight fear.

"Not Tenner. But they did catch Shaun at one of the attacks. And the girl is still alive. I'm going to meet with Vartann so we can talk with that man. We'll get some answers out of him."

"I'm coming with. I want to be there."

Jim knew better than to argue with Gil when he got something in his head so strongly. The captain just nodded his head and grabbed up his keys from the table. "I'll meet you by the cruiser in five minutes. Get your things and be there."

Grissom raised an eyebrow, "No supervision?"

"Not this time. Just don't do anything stupid. We have a key and I want to learn how to use it."

The two men left the room quickly. No one said a word after them. In fact, Greg seemed to have forgotten he had vocal cords. One by one they slowly turned back to the papers and photos stretched out in front of them. None were completely in it now. They all wanted to be flies in that interrogation room. And they could only hoped they were filled in with whatever happened as soon as possible.

TBC…


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Here's some more for everyone. Hope you all enjoy it. More to come soon! Bye!

**Chapter 28:**

_**Unhappy the land that needs heroes.**_

_**-Bertolt Brecht**_

The air conditioning was turned up as far as it would go. Grissom wrapped his arms around himself, crossing tight over his chest. He leaned back in the hard backed chair, keeping his eyes locked at the man across the table. Sighing, Grissom settled in to wait.

Shaun had his hands handcuffed in front of him, resting down on the table surface. His eyes were careless, void of any emotion. It looked as if he were simply waiting to get seen by his dentist or something as menial. But it wasn't all that impressive. Brass had seen better.

"So, you losing your touch or something? Almost getting caught. Then what do we know, you do. I have to say, I'd get a new guy if I were Tenner. You just ain't that good."

Grissom could see the man grit his teeth together, his jaw sticking out hard against his skin. This man would have made a gorilla run and hide. He was impressive in size and build. It was almost as scary as the last time the supervisor had seen him. But he seemed to luck out. Shaun didn't seem to remember who he was at all.

"You know, you can stay silent all you want. I can't make you talk, but it would save you a lot of headache later. Your court appointed lawyer is on his way, but the way they work, you'll be spilling it all anyways. Besides, we know what you did. Don't have to do anything with evidence to prove it. Witnesses and all."

Nothing, but another tightening of that hard jaw. Brass sniffed, his nose crinkling up just a little. The detective could go at this all day, but he really wanted some information. The sooner, the better.

"Just tell me where my guys are at and you can be on your way to a nice personal cell. It's where you're going anyways. Might as well make the time a little shorter, eh?"

His hands began to twist around themselves, his fingers tight on each other. The skin under the cuffs was red with irritation, but the flesh held in the blood just fine. He wasn't about to bleed to death working to get the cuffs off. Brass wouldn't let him get that far anyways.

"Look, I don't know about you, but this is the last place I want to be. All you have to do is tell us where your buddy Tenner is hiding at and we can all be on our merry little ways. Simple."

"Nothing's simple." The man grunted it out, his lips barely moving. He shifted his weight some, the chair protesting with a deep creek. Both hands were still holding on to the other in some odd form of comfort that Grissom had never understood.

Brass' eyebrow shot up, "Oh? And why's that?"

They had their way in and it seemed that Shaun wasn't as strong as he made himself out to be, "He won't be there when you get there anyways. Your people are as good as dead. Might as well leave that shit alone."

"Are you the messenger in this? Or perhaps you're not as talented as you make yourself out to be," Brass kept pushing at the buttons, "You getting soft anyways from his craziness?"

"No, shit never affected me," Shaun turned to look at the mirror lining the far wall of the room.

"So you're telling me that you did all this out of the good of your heart? His insanity didn't make you think this might be a bad idea huh? Interesting form of charity I must say. Not too bad. I should look it up around Christmas time when the department is trying to talk me into that damn Santa suit again."

It was enough to get some anger, "I did it because I had to, man. Nothing more."

"So you had to let yourself get caught? You had to get bad at your job?"

"I'm not bad at my job! Fuck! I just…"

Brass' face opened up, tilting in towards the man across the table from him, "You just what? Forgot the plan? Got a conscious?"

"No."

Glancing towards the detective, Grissom adjusted his glasses on his nose. The chill in the room was causing Shaun to pull his arms back towards himself a little. And the man didn't seem so sure of himself now. Grissom could see the bricks coming down on by on. Tenner hadn't planned on having this man in a police interrogation room it seemed.

"Oh come on now," Brass threw his arms out, leaning back, hard, in his chair, "You expect me to be happy with that simple answer? I'd try again if I were you."

There was some hesitation, more hand twisting. Shaun's face scrunched up in indecision, but he didn't stop his mouth from opening, "No. I just didn't plan on killing."

"Oh please. You did it before! You had that cloak and everything. Hell, you took the same two guys before. And you weren't planning on doing the same?"

"But they were fuckin' members of the church last time! They knew what might come at 'em. These girls didn't know shit!" Shaun slammed his cuffed hands down on the table, the chair rattling. His voice had gotten louder as he spoke.

"So a murderer can grow a conscious. I must admit, I'm impressed. I've dealt with plenty of your scum in my days and never thought that was something you could do."

"They shouldn't have had to die. He only did it because he wanted something else. It was leading up to the fucking big event."

Grissom couldn't keep him mouth closed anymore, "What big event?"

He got two looks. The one from Brass was pissed, yet pleased. And the other was from Shaun. It was a mixture of uncertainty and slight recognition. But it was obvious the man didn't know who he truly was and didn't bother to press the questions obviously floating around in his head.

"He had plans. Wanted to finish off what he started before. The girls were meant to help that along, but things went too quickly for him. I thought if I grabbed one of them and brought him to Tenner, he might not kill me."

"He'd kill you?" Brass leaned his elbows on the table and pierced the man with a harsh glare.

"Not right away, no. He'd wait until I had the opportunity to do it on my own. Those were the damn instructions we were all given. And both times I didn't do as I was supposed to. Couldn't fuckin' do it. I can't go back to him now. I've lost all my trust to him."

"What do you mean, on your own?" Grissom leaned forward as well, but kept his elbows locked in close to his body, away from the table.

"He wanted us to kill ourselves if the cops caught a sniff of anything we were doing. A big 'ol bullet to the head. Happened at least twice that I know of."

"But why? Wouldn't he have wanted to do it himself?"

Shaun actually laughed, "Please. That man didn't want to do anything that didn't fit in his little world and doing it himself was just that sort of shit. If it didn't go with had already happened, he didn't want anything to do with it. That's another reason he got so upset with me to begin with. I brought the black guy in too soon."

None of what he was saying was making too much sense to either of the other men in the room. It was a riddle of some sorts. And as much as Grissom liked a good puzzle, he was eager to move and get Nick and Warrick back. "What does that mean?"

"Tenner didn't want anyone, but one," Shaun looked defeated, but he kept on talking, "He only wanted to one that he didn't kill before. Things had gotten out of his control and he couldn't even kill him when someone else was doing the work. It would see the dude is nothing, but odd plans."

Brass slapped his opened hands down on the table now, "He wanted Nick again? Other time? Just speak out there. Don't hide anything."

Taking a deep breath, Shaun lowered his chin a little, "He wanted to get a hold of Nick, the CSI. He wants to kill him. Something about him being part of Tenner's history or some shit. I really didn't get the whole thing, but I wasn't about to ask for more. I like my head in place, thanks. But, he went ape shit about how Gordon didn't succeed. Dude was supposed to die in the box, but didn't."

"So Tenner and Gordon did work together," Grissom said mostly to himself.

"Sort of. Both knew each other, went to the same shrink or some shit like that. I don't really know. But that ain't the point, he wanted to finish the job. Leave the girls around like fucking calling cards for the dude to come and get 'em. And that he did. Only best after I brought in the black guy, but didn't get shit for it."

"Where is he now? I need you to tell me how to find him."

"Oh yeah," Shaun glared at both detective and CSI alike, "What kind of shit you gonna do for me? Huh? You gonna give like thirty or something? What makes you think I want any part of something like that?"

Brass looked over at Grissom slowly, "Only choice you really have now. You just gave a full confession and we have it all on tape. You were given your rights and obviously decided to wave them. Everything you just said will be used against you. We might be able to help it not be so bad. Keep you from becoming someone's bitch."

"You do that for Johnson? He all sitting up there pretty and shit like that? I don't want anything from either of you. And I ain't going to tell you where to find Tenner. Dudes need to die. Then I won't have to. It's that simple."

"You're going to die in prison either way. Someone is going to find out what you did and they don't take kindly to cowards the kill girls where you'd go. Even criminals have some standards. One or two will kick your ass for it," Brass explained.

"Fine. Send me there. Let my ass get kicked. At least I'll still be alive. Better than what he can do to me. You can take all I said and shove it down your throats. If I get the chance, you'll both be dead anyways. He will win this."

Taking a deep breath, Grissom removed his glasses from his nose, "I highly doubt that. We will figure out where they're at and get them back. Tenner isn't going to get to do anything."

"Oh, you'll find them alright. You'll find their bones and a few shreds of meat. Nothing more. Tenner'll fuck 'em up good. You'll be sorry to have to see that shit like that. I ain't giving you anything more."

"Alright then," Brass stood from his chair, it scraping harshly against the cold floor of the room, "But you're going to rot for this. No one is going to let you off for this one."

Shaun stood on his own, shaking off the officer hands reaching for him, "Yeah, but they'll be fuckin' dead. Nothing you can do. Their blood is on your head. May the day of destiny rain down on you and fuckin' kick your asses."

The man was escorted out of the cool room leaving behind two frustrated men. Neither said a word, Grissom not even rising from his chair yet. He was deep in thought and worry. It was hard to work through, alone with a detective that wanted nothing more than to kill Shaun with his bare hands.

"Any ideas?" Brass shot at him with a low tone, frown deeply in place.

Grissom sighed, pinching the skin on his chin, "No. And I fear we might be too late in this one. No one has anything. We might be too late."

He received a sharp look, "You mean you're going to give up? Let them die? What the hell, Gil?"

"You think that's easy for me to accept," the CSI suddenly shouted out, his voice flooded with unknown emotions, "I don't know what to do. I failed them and now they might die for it. This is all my fault. Their blood is on my hands. That's all there is to it."

Getting quickly to his feet, Grissom left the room before Brass could say another word to him. He wasn't in the mood to listen to anymore words. All he wanted to do was get a hold of some evidence and make it tell its story to him. Hope had left him, but there might just be some left for Nick and Warrick out there.

Somewhere.

!#$&()+!#$&()+!#$&()+!#$&()+

He was sure time was passing by. There was no way it wasn't. Time didn't stand still for someone like him. No way he was special enough to desire something such as that. After all, he was one who ruined his best friend with nothing more than a couple of words.

Nick signed, his chin dropped to rest on his chest. Tiny bodies were still moving all over him, working their way up and over his face. He had been pretty successful in keeping them out of his nose, but he was having harder luck with his mouth. Every now and then he would yawn or just open his lips for a bigger gulp of air. Instead, a few crunchy bodies worked their way in as well. At least he was going to be getting plenty of protein.

Nothing had bitten him yet. And not being able to see from the blindfold, Nick had no clue what was on him. He knew there were types of ants that didn't bite, but he wasn't about to test that theory by moving around and making them made. Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if these were different from the last time he were in the room. It would be something Tenner would enjoy doing.

Several of the things had managed their way under his shirt. They were crawling around his stomach, on his chest. Their small feet where clinging to the light layer of hair he had over his torso. But it was on his neck that they tickled the most.

All the feeling had left his hands. He was sure they were still behind him, tied off in a tight rope, but he couldn't feel them. His clothes were still soaked, drying at the speed of grass growing. The cold really wasn't a factor anymore. No more chills. And Nick knew that was a bad sign. He might be from Texas, but he knew that you didn't want to get so cold that you stopped shivering.

Hypothermia was now on his list of problems. His chilled brain couldn't pull up any useful information about what he could do for this kind of thing. There were things he remembered from college biology classes and something that was discussed on the Dallas Squad, but it was hard to pull it all out and have it make any sense. It all needed an order for his slower than normal thought processes.

_Pull all limbs in as tight to the body as possible._

_Cold-water immersion can increase conductive heat loss by about twenty five times._

_Approximately 700 people die in the United States from accidental primary hypothermia each year. _

_Hypothermia affects all organ systems._

_Signs may include slurred speech, slow rate of breathing, cold, pale skin, and fatigue._

_A disproportionate amount of heat is lost through your head._

_Don't attempt to swim unless close to safe place._

Nick rolled his eyes behind closed lids as he thought about the last one. He wasn't actually in a water situation. Just given a really cold shower, more than once. But some of the others stuck out at him. They sounded important and he fought to give them more thoughts.

He tried to check his breathing. It was a little shaky, rough against his lungs. Nick couldn't really think about what was normal for his breathing, but this had to be slower. There was no way he did this normally, not with the tone he had produced in his body.

They yawning answered the questions about fatigue. He had been fighting the damn things off more than the insects crawling around his ears. Nick knew he was going to have to try to keep himself as alert as possible. Testing out his speech might help with that. Nothing better than trying to think of things to say to oneself.

"The long…billed..cur.curlew b.b.breeds mostly…on grasslands of the…West. It.t's the largest shore…bird in N.north Amer'ca," Nick almost sobbed at the last word. It had been hard enough to get his lips to form those words. That was something he should have been able to spit out at rapid speed without batting an eyelash. Instead, he fought for the words, both in his mind and on his lips.

He was officially in trouble. Healthy people normally didn't die from hypothermia. Well, if they could get treatment going right away. And that didn't seem like something Tenner was going to offer him during this thing they had going on.

A small body climbed up towards his right eye, wiggling under the blindfold. Nick slammed the lids down harder. He tried wiggling his cheeks, blowing upwards the best he could, but the thing was persistent. Small feelers reached out, brushing up against his dark eyelashes. The lid fluttered at the sensation. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Luke warm tears managed to break the sealed barrier.

It was too hard. It was almost too much. Nick tried to find more resolve deep inside himself, but it was getting harder and harder. More tears came. The small body was dislodged, pushed from the cloth, following the small stream that ran off Nick's bluish-gray chin. He slammed his head hard against the wall behind him, waking all his nerve endings up for just a moment.

Pain flared through every fiber of his body. There was only so much he would be able to handle and this seemed to be the limits of it. No amount of pleading or crying was able to make it change. More just kept coming. He had let them down. Nick couldn't do anything for anyone. Ever.

!#$&()+!#$&()+!#$&()+

Warrick didn't bother to lift his head. The lights were all on now, burning out his corneas. His eyelids were shut tight as he could manage, but the light still weaseled its way in. But the light was really the least of his worries.

His mind was replaying everything that just happened. From what was previously done to those words Nick had said to him. It really wasn't a big thing and Warrick was chastising himself for acting like a total girl, but it did bother him. And he didn't really like where his mind was taking it to as for the reason why.

Sure, he had felt guilty for most of the bad things that had happened to Nick. A lot of it was his fault. He understood he wasn't the one to stab Nick, shove him in a glass box, or shoot his head off in front of him, but it still felt like it could have been.

This was something he always had a problem with. Even as a child he had problems taking on too much guilt for things. His grandmother had tried to work with him on it, but it was clear it hadn't taken like it should have. Warrick could still remember the time he had cleaned the living room and rearranged the furniture. His grandmother had come home, not thinking things would be different. She walked into the room like normal, right into a table holding some of her precious collectables. Two of them had fallen and smashed on the floor. No fault was given to Warrick, called an accident, but he still had felt terribly guilty. He was the one who moved things around and didn't say a word about it to her. It might not have happened it he had done something else. Done anything at all.

But what he had done to Nick was ten times more serious. These things almost cost his friend his life more that once. And now there was nothing he could do for him. It was his fault that he let himself be taken so he could be used as bait. Now Tenner had them both and was slowly getting what he wanted.

Both cloaked figures were still in the room. He didn't know what they were doing, other than watching everything he was doing. Not that he was all that entertaining. Warrick could only think that he hoped they weren't waiting for him to balance a ball on the top of his head while juggling tennis balls. It would be a cold day in hell first.

Tenner had come back in after they had disposed of Nick. There had been no words, just the turning on of the two last lights. He had walked out without some much as a look to Warrick. It was clearly obvious that Nick really was what he wanted. Tenner left Warrick alone when Nick wasn't involved.

Warrick tried to think of something he might be able to do. His hands were useless, only his feet free. He had tried to stand and walk with the chair strapped onto him, but it was hard and awkward. There was no way he could do it. If he were a few inches shorter it may have been possible, but with his lanky form, there was no way. Muscles just didn't work that way for him.

Somehow him and Nick were going to have to work together to get out of this one. That was the only option. But he wasn't so sure Nick would want to help him anymore. Sure, the guy had a heart of gold, but there was only so much a person could take before they stopped caring. And Nick would have a better option of escape if he didn't have to worry about Warrick as well.

His thoughts were cut off as Tenner sauntered back into the room, a large smile on his face, "You'll be happy to know, Nick is almost there. We will be able to kill him soon enough. I thought you'd like to know."

"What are you doing to him?"

"Oh, friends again? Hmm, interesting. Anyways, he's off in a little timeout. Nothing major, just a dark closet with hundreds of little critters."

Warrick was sure his heart had triple thudded, "Little critters? You put ants in with him? What the fuck? He's allergic to them!"

"Oh, that I know. Don't worry. I don't want him to die that way. Oh no. This is just something extra to scare him. I didn't use anything lethal against him. Just small crickets. They feel like ants though I'm told when they walk on your skin."

"You idea of sick amusement. Nick is stronger than that. If they don't bite him, he'll know something is up and be just fine."

"You so sure about that?" Tenner asked while shooting a look to the cloaked figures, "We can take a look. I'm dying to know myself. Besides, I think the cold is working better than those bugs ever could."

"Sending them after him again," Warrick commented as he watched them leave the room as quiet as a whisper.

"Yes. I must admit. I'm curious myself to see exactly how things are going. You can only hear and see things so well through modern technology. Nothing's better than natural human ears and eyes. Wouldn't you agree?"

"To anything you say? I don't think so. I'd have to be really drunk to do something like that."

"Always figured you'd be the one who'd be the most trouble. Even the last time you couldn't keep your mouth shut. Well, this time he'll be too far gone to even care for anything to say or do anymore. I told you I was going to break him and I still plan on doing it."

"What? You do this cuz you have problems getting it up or something? No woman crazy enough to let you fuck her so you get off doing shit like this? What is it?"

Tenner's eyes darkened. He reached out and turned off one, two of the lights in rapid succession, "There is nothing wrong with me. If you must keep going back to that, you obviously don't have anything else to work with. You don't understand, Mr. Brown. And you never will. But Nick will. He will soon enough."

Some shuffling by the door distracted both men. Warrick shifted as best he could and watched Nick limp his way into the room. It was clear that if it weren't for the two figures by his sides, then Nick would be flat faced on the floor. The Texan's hair was dripping wet again.

"Nick!"

The sound got to the other man, but it was clear he didn't really understand what it meant or who it was from at that moment. Nick simply rolled his head around on his neck, eyes trying to focus. His feet dragged as he was led back to his chair. They had his hands untied. But they were limp at his sides, hanging down to the floor.

"See, he is almost there. I would have never thought something as simple as cold water and chilly temperatures would be enough to do something this well. Oh, well, and the bugs of course. Everything is working better than I could have ever dreamed. This is perfect."

Nick groaned and tried to lean away from the voice. His back was stopped by the chair and forced him to slump a little more. Warrick could see that his hands were an interesting shade of gray and no longer shaking.

"He's got hypothermia. He needs to be warmed up."

"Oh, it'll be warm enough soon. He'll be given his option to get away from this and make himself warmer again. Soon," Tenner reached out and brushed the back of his hand against Nick's right cheek. He was pleased by the cold, clammy feel that it had.

"But I have changed my mind. I think I'll kill him first, then you. For awhile I had been playing around with the other option, but since he is responding so well, I might as well not waste it. And you'll get to see it all. Aren't you excited?"

Warrick ignored him and focused on Nick, "Hey. Hey bud! Nick, I need you to look at me."

Another moan, another roll of a heavy head. Nick worked on figuring out what was going on. It was getting harder and harder. The last blast of cold water had been nothing, but a nuisance. Nothing really mattered anymore when it came to his body temperature. It was dangerously low as it was.

The voice came again, harder this time. Nick forced his head steady, his eyes cracking open. There was a hard crust in the corners and it yanked at the lashes as they separated. He could hear a gasp from someone, somewhere. His blue lips moved, but nothing came out.

Warrick couldn't hold back his gasp of surprise. Those once vibrant chocolate eyes were almost a completely pale brown. There was little color other than from the enlarged black pupils. Nick's skin looked to be almost see-through, beyond pale. It was almost transparent. And the blue lips didn't look right against the pale pink tongue that darted out to lick at them.

"See, he's almost there. We should be able to do more. I have a feeling I know what might work," Tenner leaned in close to Nick, his lips almost brushing the white ear, "Hey CSI guy."

It was enough to get Nick to jerk a little, away from the sound. Those words flooded forward through his jumbled thoughts. He suddenly couldn't move. There wasn't as much as air as before. Nick let out a soft cry of distress.

"Breathe quick, breathe slow," Tenner smiled, watching as Nick sucked in a large breath, trying to hold in his noises of fear.

Warrick growled, "Leave him alone! Nick, hey! You're not alone! I'm here!"

His forehead crinkled a little. That voice was familiar. Nick cleared his dead eyes the best he could and managed to make out the rough form of the CSI right in front of him. He knew that was Warrick. But it was hard to believe that he was talking to him. Warrick was mad at him for something, he knew that, but couldn't remember for what. Nick didn't think he was there to save him at all.

"Put your gun in your mouth. Either way, you're going to die here."

Something heavy was placed in his hand. His fingers were moved, wrapped around the object. Nick turned his attention towards it. All he could see was a large black object, in an odd shape. But it felt like something he was used to, had held before at some point. He had been a cop. Nick knew the feel of a gun in his hand.

"Do it Nick. Pull the trigger. It won't hurt. It'll bring warmth," Tenner was back, whispering sweetly in his ear.

"No!" Warrick shouted, eyes wide, "Don't do it Nick! Put it down! This isn't the way!"

"Oh, it's the only way to make this all end," Tenner smirked towards Warrick as he kept talking, "This will end it all. Everything will be better once it is all over."

It was all too confusing. Nick tried to lift the gun. His hand had trouble, trembling under the strain. But he managed to get it up away from his knee. For some reason it reassured him. There was a way out. He didn't need to suffer through the ants and the suffocation. Nick could do this all on his own.

"Here, let me help you with that. Now, watch what I do," Tenner reached out and wrapped his hand around Nick's. Warrick barely registered the action before the gun was pointed in his direction. He could see Nick was only looking at his hand, not the intended target. Tenner was going to help Nick to shoot him.

"Nick! Don't!" Warrick watched as the gun was cocked, Tenner leaned down to make sure the aim as perfect. The smile got larger right as the trigger was pulled. Warrick threw his weight back in the chair as hard as he could, yelling out in anger. It tipped backwards, gravity finishing the job, pulling Warrick to the ground.

He felt something rip at his lower left leg that was now in flying up into the air. Warrick shouted in pain, still falling backwards. There wasn't another shot, but he didn't have to worry about that. His head smashed into the cement of the floor. Unconsciousness hit him like a train.

Tenner simply nodded his head and removed his hand from Nick's, "Now it's up to you Nicky. Do as you must."

He stepped backwards, away from Nick. The CSI's attention was still focused on the gun in his hand. For some reason it attracted his full attention. But so had the yells. They were getting some of his attention now and Nick was slowly forgetting what the gun was for that he held in his hand.

The last light suddenly went out. Nick gasped, his head snapping upwards. A chill ran across him, lifting at his hair. Something green was off to his side. It wasn't bright, just enough to be there as a tiny bit of his surroundings. And it gave a green-hint off the thing he remembered he held.

It was dark. No light was able to reach any inch of his body. Nick's mouth opened wide, scream loud to his ears as it echoed around the small room. No one was coming!

The steel was warm in his hands. It had been used. He had seen it. And now, it was his. But in the darkness, there was nothing to aim at. Well…there was one thing.

Nick shook, made some keening noises in his throat. He gripped the gun in both cold, dying hands and brought it up to his chin. It pressed into the softness there, hard and solid. The end of the barrel was hot to the touch, but it barely registered in Nick's mind.

He had no air. There was no one coming. This was it. It was up to him to end his suffering. His finger wrapped around the trigger, resting there. He was alone and he was going to die alone. Nick sobbed as he took a deep breath, steadying himself the best he could.

He wondered what Heaven looked like.

TBC…


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Second to last chapter here! Almost over. Mostly a chapter with our two favorite guys so I think everyone will be happy. Do they live, do they die? Oh who cares! They're both in it for a good chunk! Anyways, last chapter should be up sometime over the week, pending on the fact that I survive through my four midterms this week. Enjoy!

**Chapter 29:**

_**The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.  
The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference.  
The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference.  
And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.**_

_**-Elie Wiesel**_

Nick closed his eyes. For some reason, he didn't think he wanted to see the bullet. If he closed his eyes, he wouldn't be able to see it ripping through his skull, the pink brain matter. To his frozen mind, it made the most sense.

But then, so did something else. Something told him that he wasn't in a box or a tiny room. He was in a larger room and he wasn't alone. People were with him, waiting for something. But the reason for it was completely escaping him. And it was giving him sudden doubt in what he was doing. This was all wrong.

His eyes opened slowly. Nick could see something, but there were no hard edges. He could still feel the gun he had pressed against the underside of his chin, tightly held there by a locked hand. But he could feel the wear and tear on that hand. It was his highly unused hand. Nick wasn't a leftie and he didn't know how long he would be able to keep control of it. It also helped to remind him of the condition of his right arm.

The blue lips parted, a soft cry escaping. Something was different then his mind was telling him. He had done something, not by his choosing. And now he sat with a gun pressed against his chin. It was nothing really new to the CSI. He'd done such a thing before. But last time he had been saved. Nick knew that wouldn't happen this time. Deep down, he knew he was the one that was going to have to get out of this on his own.

Now the hand started to shake. It was hard to keep it into place. Unconsciously his index finger tightened on the trigger. The sounds the chamber made with such an action helped Nick to realize what he was about to do. He was about to put a bullet into his brain. And it was going to look like the other two he had seen. It wasn't something he wanted.

The gun began to lower. Something moved off to his right, a jerky sound. He could see the figure move a bit through the green haze covering him in the room. And from the shape and size, he was pretty sure it was a person.

All the joints in his arm creaked and strained as he lowered the freezing limb. It got about to the point where the gun was shoulder level, still pointed in his general direction. Nick couldn't get his finger off the trigger. It was locked into place. He could have sworn his body was settling into riga mortis before he was even dead.

Whatever was coming at him was getting bigger. From the walk, he knew the person, yet really didn't. Nick's mind slowly put the events together, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn't seem to do much. Everything was getting foggy. But he got that feeling that he wasn't even close to being safe.

"Now, now Nick. What are you trying to do? Have you forgotten what you wanted to do? Remember Nick. You are going to provide to destiny."

Something wrapped around his hand. His nerve endings barely registered the heat radiated off of it so he couldn't quite figure out that it was another hand. All Nick knew was that it was trying to force him to do something. It was pushing his arm, the gun back in the direction of his face. The smell of gun powder got steadily stronger.

"No," Nick wasn't even sure he made a sound, but it was enough for the force to stop for a moment.

"No? Whatever do you mean Nick? You asked me to help you do this. Why now stop? Let's go all the way. Trust me. I'm your friend."

The pushing was back. His hand, the gun were only centimeters from his quivering, blue chin. Nick grunted, trying to make his own muscles work and react to what was happening to him. It was a losing battle. He could feel the barrel touching the edge of the soft, dying flesh. The hand was relentless.

"It's going to be okay, Nick. Just trust me. This is the best thing. The best way."

It was back in place. Nick could almost feel the newest round of tears running down his cheeks. His left hand shook from the pressure he was trying to exert on it. But he didn't have the strength to move his body much on his own anymore. His feet felt like they weighed a ton and his right arm was completely useless. He was going to die.

"Oh, it's okay. This will be painless, quick. Hard to believe I'm offering you this, but it has to be done. Justice needs to be served and you'll do it by your own hand."

But Nick knew this wasn't right. His brain jumped started a little. Justice was something he worked with and this wasn't it. Slowly he lifted his eyes from the void he had been starring into towards where the voice was coming from. Blinking rapidly, he managed to get his eyes to focus better than before, but no where near perfect. But it was enough.

Nick whimpered as he took in the smirk on Tenner's face. This was Jacob Tenner forcing the gun under his chin, trying to make him pull the trigger. It was the man that tortured him, not once, not even twice, but three times now. And Nick couldn't fight back anymore.

It was harsh against the soft, saturated skin. The barrel was managing to slice into his gray flesh, the red blood a harsh contrast. There was a slight tickle from where it was running down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. Nick was worried that it felt cold to even his frozen skin.

He looked back at Tenner, those old eyes. They were chilling. Nick had dealt with the man in some of his worst moments, but some reason this was the worst he had ever seen him. And his hand was still over Nick's on the gun. He was shoving it upwards, hand hard.

Thinking hard and as fast as he was able, Nick tilted his head back slightly. It gave him a little leeway between him and the gun, but not a big enough one for his personal comfort. Making sure Tenner was looking him directly in the face, Nick tried to lift his right foot. It was harder than he would have thought. It seemed to barely get up off the ground. Someone had tied his entire gym onto his shoe laces. Nick couldn't get it to really do what he wanted. It was beyond frustrating. More tears came.

"Just pull the trigger Nick. So simple, nothing to it. Bliss awaits you. Nothing can touch you then, nothing at all. No ants, no dirt, no bullets. You'll be free."

Tenner released his hand, stepping back only one step. Nick tried to glare at him through watery eyes, only half succeeding. But he had more room to move now. Though it was going to have to be right on the money because now the man could see everything he was up to. Nick took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"That's it Nick. Just do it. So soon."

His blue lips parted, a soft breath releasing itself from his lungs. It was chilly against his teeth. Nick pulled in another deep breath, the air burning a hot path through his chest. He counted to three, another. This appeared to be making Tenner happy.

But Nick wasn't about to worry about that anymore. On his fifth inhale, he tensed whatever muscles that were obeying him. It didn't feel like many, but it was too late to go back now. He was going to have to do this if he wanted to survive. Well, longer anyways.

"Pull the trigger!" Tenner was getting impatient now, it was clear in his voice.

On his last countdown to one, Nick spurred his body into motion. Every fiber of his being protested these actions, but he wasn't about to sit there and take this any longer. Now it was his turn to make his own destiny even if it killed him.

His right leg jerked up, harder than planned due to the jerky movements. The solid foot connected with something, but he couldn't tell. All Nick knew was that it sent a wave of agony up into his body. But Tenner did shout out. Nick could almost see him go down to his one knee.

Pushing against the back of the chair, Nick got himself upright more. His spine crackled, but it held his weight. It was more work getting his hand and arm to move where he wanted them. The gun didn't want to leave its position under his chin. It had fired once and it wanted to do so again.

It was almost too heavy when it finally got suspended in the air. His fingers clung to it as best they could, but the barrel still pointed too far down. Nick gritted his teeth, splitting open his tongue in the process. Copper filled his mouth, draining down his throat. He gagged slightly, but in a twisted way it helped to clear out some of the fog. Not much, but enough for now.

He could see Tenner clutching at his leg. Nick had hit him hard, jamming out the older man's knee. But he didn't know that. All Nick could see was an opportunity. He could hear the cursing, the mumbled yells of the man, but wasn't able to decipher them all out. All he was worried about now was getting the gun to work in the way he wanted.

"Nick! Stop! You aren't supposed to do this!" Tenner ordered in a strained voice. He could see the Texan struggling against his own body and knew he had some time to get back to his feet. There was no way Nick was going to be able to do anything in his state. "Just stop. You can't do anything anyways. It's over. You're going to die anyways. Guess I'll just have to put that bullet in the back of your neck."

The gun lifted slightly. Nick turned his head slowly with the angle the gun took. He knew the aim sucked, but there wasn't too much he could do about it. All he could hope for was the thing did what he was seeing in the back of the murky waters that had taken over his brain. Coughing a little, he cleared out enough crap in his throat.

"Not today. Today I live," Nick croaked out, one word per minute it seemed to his own ears. But it was enough. He could see clearly the wide eyed look Tenner gave as he tried to lurch forward. The gun blasted, hard enough to thrown Nick hard back into the chair.

Nick closed his eyes, head thrown back as he gasped out his pain. The sound of the shot echoed around his head, pounded on his spinal cord. His shoulder seemed to have dropped even more, his right hand lower than humanly possible. But there were noises around him. He needed to pay more attention to it.

His eyes opened slowly through the crust to see what was happening around him. Two black figures dashed in front of him, cutting off any view he had of Tenner. Nick tried to aim the gun at them, but they both quickly ran off. Neither said a word or did a thing to the Texan. Both had decided to flee at that moment since there was nothing more they could or knew how to do. It was beyond both of them.

Curious through the blood in his mouth, Nick looked down towards the floor. Tenner had fallen on his back. The right side of his face was missing. All that was left was part of the top skull, part of the ear, and a gaping hole. Nick swallowed thickly the copper that had filled up on his tongue. That had been better than he ever had hoped for. But he had little time to celebrate.

Tearing his gaze off the dead man on the ground, Nick looked for the person he had forgotten about for a few moments there. All he could see of Warrick was the man's feet hanging over the edge of the chair. For some reason Warrick was on his back. Nick couldn't figure out why he was like that and didn't want to waste time looking for those answers. He needed to get him and get the hell out of there.

"'Rick. Hey!"

It was pathetically weak and slurred, heavy with exhaustion. Nick groaned, working at getting his body forward in the chair again. Pain caused white stars to appear in front of his eyes, but he chased it away with a blood chaser. His body balanced on the very end of the chair, swaying slightly to both sides. Now was the hard part.

Nick attempted to drop the gun from his hand. His fingers wouldn't open from around it. The index finger was stuck around the trigger. And he couldn't use his other hand to help. There was only one thing he could think of and he prayed it wouldn't take his head off. He brought the gun up a little, enough so he could reach his fingers with his lips. Cold flesh worked against cold flesh, but Nick's lips and teeth were able to get his fingers off the gun enough that it dropped down. The blood from his mouth left a pinkish tone on the grayness of his fingers. It ran down his chin.

He held his breath as it fell, but it didn't go off. It just clanged and settled. But his hand was mangles, fingers looking like crow's feet. He pushed it downward until he could barely feel the solidness of the chair. Nick used what power he could to get to his feet.

"Hey! Help!"

The other man didn't move, didn't respond. Nick started to feel the tendrils of panic seep their way up his body, clinging onto him like tentacles. His steps were short, jerky. Twice he almost fell flat on his face as he made his way to those feet hanging oddly in the air. Nick finally got close enough that he could see that Warrick's eyes were closed.

"War.r…rick?" His lips were almost closed, his vocal cords choked with emotions. It sounded strange to his own ears. A soft sob worked its way up his throat from the very bottom of his lungs. Nick couldn't tell if Warrick was dead or not. All he make out was that the other man's eyes were closed.

Closing his own eyes, Nick tried to sort out his thought, find those with Warrick in them. They flittered around, none really staying in place long enough for him to really look at them. He could see pictures of them forced to sit knee to knee, heard something that resembled an argument. Taking a deep,. Vibrating breath, Nick tried to remember why Warrick was down on the ground.

He ignored the tears streaming down his face. Nick couldn't feel them anyways. His body was shutting down one cell at a time. He soon wasn't about to feel much. Death was knocking and he was expecting a prompt answer.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

A hang over was supposed to be more pleasant than this. He wasn't supposed to be cold and sure as hell, his head wasn't supposed to be pounding just in the back of the damn thing. Headaches were supposed to spread so he could kill them with excess amounts of ibuprofen. That's what he was used to. And he never had a pain in his leg before with one either.

Well, not that he could actually remember.

His nose crinkled up as he sniffed, taking in the chilly air. It smelled funny. There was no trace of soft woman's perfume, vanilla body wash. His aftershave scent wasn't present deep in the feathers of his pillows. No, his head wasn't even on a pillow.

Warrick groaned softly, his head rolling to the side. Whatever was causing the pain in the back of his head wasn't happy with the move and argued back at him. It earned another groan from the fallen man. Which was something else that Warrick suddenly realized.

Both of his feet were dangling in the air. And his arms suddenly reminded him that they were uncomfortably being crushed by the rest of his weight. Warrick tried to pull his arms out, but was brought up short by both facts that they were completely asleep and that his hands were being held together by something.

He opened his green eyes slowly, assaulted simultaneously by both darkness and light, "Shit."

It was soft, barely riding out of his mouth. But it echoed back to his ears and suddenly was enough to slam the situation deep into his brain. He had been shot, by Nick. He was on his back when Tenner was somewhere around him, doing who the hell knows what. Warrick tried to move, but didn't get far. His body wouldn't let him do much and he made out something that both relieved and scared him.

"Nick?"

The man that had become his best friend was standing by his side. But Nick's eyes were closed, dark lashes resting on the white skin. And his cheeks were wet. Warrick felt a tinge of worry, but also something of déjà vu. It had been like this before. Nick had been in trouble due to something, but had a chance to save Warrick. And it seemed that Nick was doing the same thing as he had done the last time Tenner fucked with them.

"Hey, Nick. You hear me?"

A gasp was his answer, those brown eyes jumping open almost too quickly. Nick looked completely panicked, lost. His eyes scanned around, his body almost crumpling in on itself. Warrick knew the man wasn't going to be able to stay on his feet for too much longer. They had to get the hell out of there.

"Nick, man. Where's Tenner?"

Both his own name and the name of the other man startled Nick enough to get him to look down and finally meet the gaze of Warrick. His pale tongue reached out to brush against sickly gray lips. Nick tasted a salty substance there, but didn't pay it any mind. Something had been asked of him and he needed to find the words.

"H.help."

Warrick nodded as best as he could in his position, "Yeah, man. Help, we need that. My head is killing me. Think I got a fucking concussion. But where's Tenner?"

"Help. De…dead. H.help."

Those were the only two words that Nick suddenly seemed to have the ability to say. He repeated them, getting slightly louder as he went, but not by much. Warrick groaned as it drummed into his brain, sending more waves of pain through his scalp. Yeah, he really wished for a hangover compared to this.

"Alright Nick. I think I get it. He's dead. Right now, I don't need to how to, just some help of my own. Then I'll help you. Okay?"

Nick looked unsure, swaying slightly against the soft breeze in the room. Looking over his friend, Warrick could see the Texan's shoulder was still messed up. If he didn't get it looked at soon, there was going to be some permanent damage to that arm and the nerves. But he could see Nick trying to think something out.

"Come on Nick. Need ya to get down here and help me up. Can't get my hands free and my leg is killing me. Then we can get out of here."

Nodding his head dramatically, Nick shuffled a little more towards him. Warrick was alarmed even more by the way Nick was walking. It was almost as if he couldn't lift either of his feet more than a couple millimeters. Nick wasn't long until he smashed his own skull into the floor.

"Alright, bro. I need you to kneel down slowly. Use my legs as a brace so you don't go down too quickly, alright? Just take your time."

"O.okay," Nick stuttered as he reached out with his left hand and clasped at Warrick's legs with it. The fingers didn't really open, but he was able to grab up some of the material. His knees buckled out on his anyways. Nick had no choice, but to go down.

Warrick gasped at the cold of Nick's hand. He could feel it go right through his jeans. And he could do nothing more than watch as Nick slammed hard down onto his knees. He bit his lower lip as Nick cried out in agony. From the look on the CSI's face, his entire body had felt that impact.

"Hey, you're good Nick. Just don't focus on it. Help me get my hands loose and we are out of here. Almost there man. Then we can get you that help and get the hell out of here."

Those claw like hands came at him. Warrick frowned at the action, not understanding what was going to happen. Both slammed into the side of his torso. Nick cried out at the action, but threw his weight into it the best he could. Warrick gave a cry of his own as he was thrown off his back, onto his side. His weight and the chair hit hard against the wound in his leg.

"Damn! Shit Nicky. Trying to kill me!" Warrick moaned through his pain.

Nick shook his head, blinked his eyes hard. It was getting harder and harder to focus. And everything hurt, yet didn't. It was an odd feeling and he was finding that he just didn't care all that much anymore. But the complaints from the man in front of him helped him to locate the ropes and start pawing at them with both useless hands.

"T.twist."

"Huh? What?" Warrick was unsure for a moment until he felt something hard and cold slam down hard onto his fingers, "Shit. Alright. Just had to say it. No need to hit."

Warrick started shifting his wrists around the best he could, ignoring the pain. It would be nothing once he was loose, which he could feel might be sometime soon. Nick was gaining on getting his frozen fingers locked in the tangles of rope. Between his movements and Warrick's, they were becoming loose enough that the loops were coming off.

"Almost there….Just….right there!" Warrick ripped is arms apart with as much flair as he could muster. The loss of the stable hold behind him sent him tumbling the short distance from the chair to the floor. He managed to get his arms in front of him to take most of the fall. Since they were asleep, it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

"Hey, way to go man. We're almost there. Just let me get to my feet and then we'll walk," Warrick grumbled into the floor as he worked on getting his knees under his body.

It was awkward, but he managed to get upright. His leg throbbed, but he made it move. Both arms began to tingle harshly as the nerve endings woke up with the rush of fresh blood to the areas. Warrick turned his eyes to look at Nick. The other man hadn't even tried to move from his knees.

"Nick? Can you get up?"

The other man didn't even lift his head. He was swaying. Warrick growled and rushed his body to his feet. The sudden change swarmed his head, small lights blurring his vision. Closing his eyes for a moment, Warrick got used to the fact he was standing after who knows how long. But the worry for Nick got him to forget about himself and open his eyes.

Nick hadn't moved. Warrick limped over to his left side and reached down to grab him hard around the upper arm. The flesh was cold. His clothes were still slightly wet.

"Nick. Come on. I'll help you, but I can't do this all on my own," Warrick bent his knees a little, most of his weight centered over his good leg. He pulled back, using his own body weight as leverage against the slightly smaller man. It worked to some degree, but it wasn't until Nick scrambled to get his own legs under him that he got to his feet.

Leaning heavily on Warrick, Nick could feel something different. It was almost painful. There was something scorching his skin. He hissed through his teeth, the cool breath hitting Warrick in the neck. Nick was forced to move. His feet barely moved.

Warrick wrapped one arm around Nick's waste, the other holding hard to his left arm. He spared a small glance at what was left of their tormentor. They shifted slowly, almost falling several times. It was a long journey, one Warrick wasn't ever interested in taking again.

There were several hallways in the building. And there was little light. It was hard to figure out where they were and where they had to go. Warrick knew that Nick had driven himself to that place. He only hoped that Tenner hadn't done anything to the truck.

Speaking of Tenner, "You kill him Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"Tenner. Did you kill him, man? I saw his head. You did that with the gun didn't you?"

"Hmm."

There was no question to it that time. It sounded like pure satisfaction. Warrick grinned a little, shifting his hold on his friend, "Gonna have to tell me that story. Want to hear that over several rounds of beer. Now, let's find where your fool self parked the truck."

Warrick could see an outline of something ahead of them. It looked like an orangish outlined rectangle in the darkness. He pushed them to it, his one hand letting go of Nick to reach out in front of him. The wood was solid under his hand. Warrick groped around for the handle. It clicked as it turned.

The light was fading outside. Warrick's mouth dropped as he realized it was almost time for a new night to fall. He didn't even want to really know how much time had passed. Not yet anyways. He pulled on Nick, moving them out into the cooling dusk.

Nick was leaning on him more and more. His frozen body was nothing more than dead weight. But Warrick could feel the cool breath on his overheated skin. And there was a slight tremor working its way into Nick. He had a feeling it was from his body heat working on the Texan. At least, he hoped.

"You know where the truck is?" Warrick asked, looking to their right first. Nothing. He turned to look the other way. The truck was about fifty feet away, in front of a white door. "Finally, something works for us. Now, just a little more walking, man. Then you can sit down."

It was hard, but he got them there. He was sure he had left a blood trail behind him. Warrick could feel the warm blood flowing out of his wound to soak into his soak and shoe. It was disgusting, but it could be worse. Warrick suddenly thought of something that might actually be, "You got the keys man?"

There was no noise or movement from Nick. Warrick reached over to grasp Nick's chin in his hand. Both eyes were closed. Nick had finally given in to it all. Panic made Warrick react, his hand sweeping down to feel Nick's pockets. The left one turned up empty, but there was a bulge in the right one. Wriggling his fingers in the denim, Warrick smiled when he felt metal.

"Man, didn't even take these from you did he. Glad the guy wasn't all there to think of something like that."

The keys clinked as he pulled them free. Pushing the lock release, the truck chirped happily at him. Warrick nodded and shifted Nick over to the rear door on the driver's side. He wasn't going to try to get the man around the truck. This was good enough. He managed to pull the door open, only slightly losing his hold on Nick.

"No more burritos for you after this, man. This isn't any sort of picnic let me tell ya," Warrick grunted as he got Nick up and into the rear seat. The man fell onto his side and Warrick quickly turned Nick so he was more on his back, off the injured shoulder. He didn't know a whole lot about dislocations, but he had a feeling sleeping on one was a bad thing.

The door closed loudly in his ears. Warrick got into the driver's seat, working the keys into the ignition. He reached over quickly and turned the heat on as high as it would go. The warm air hit his face. Warrick clamped both hands on the steering wheel.

Everything shifted in front of his eyes. It all hit him at once. His leg began to throb, bleeding the same as before. The wound to the back of his head pulsed. Warrick managed to tear one hand off the wheel and reached back to the back of his head. His hair was wet and sticky.

He suddenly felt very tired. Warrick wanted nothing more than to take a nap. His sore green eyes looked out the driver's window. He couldn't see much other than desert with a haze of lights in the distance. A nap was sounding better than ever. Both eyelids began to shift down. As did his foot which kicked something small.

Warrick's lips puckered out a little. Curious suddenly, he reached down and felt around on the floor. His fingertips came into contact with something smooth, small. Yawning, he managed to grasp it and brought it up around the seat so he could see it. It was Nick's phone.

Becoming slightly more alert, Warrick flipped it open, speed dialing. He shifted it up towards his ear, his other hand reaching for the shifter. The truck went out of park into drive. Warrick had to drive with care not to move his injured leg too much. There was a ringing in the phone. A pick up.

"Nick!" Grissom's voice filled out of the speaker into the truck.

Licking at his dry lips, Warrick smiled and depressed the gas petal harder, "Gris. Need help. Injured. Hypothermia."

"Warrick? Where are you? Is Nick with you?"

"Yes. Help. Driving to Vegas. Meet us. Ambulance. Hypothermia."

"Both of you?" Grissom asked. Warrick could hear him yelling at people, others yelling back at him over the phone. He recognized those voices. A small smile came to his lips.

"Nick. Gonna die."

"No, neither of you are going to die. Just keep driving. Do you know about where you are?"

Warrick shifted his gaze around through the glass a little. He had never seen this stuff before. Or he just couldn't remember if he had right then. "No, but I can see the lights. On a dirt road. Far."

"Alright. You keep driving. Brass is getting ready. I'll be coming with him. You stay on the phone and as soon as you see something you know, you tell me. We'll be there with help. You hear me!"

"Sure thing boss," Warrick mumbled around a yawn. He was so tired and wanted to just rest his eyes. But he kept them open, plowing his way towards Vegas. There were lights in the sky.

"I see planes."

"Airplanes? You're by the airport?"

"Lights in the sky. Getting lower. Dirt road."

There was some muffled conversation on the other end. Warrick made the truck go faster. It jumped and bounced hard, but he wasn't about to slow down. Vegas was almost there. Help was coming. That's all his tired mind could think of now. All the adrenaline from the stress was wearing off and Warrick was running on empty. His fear for Nick's life kept him driving.

It was a long time before he saw several headlights coming at him. There were flashing red and blue lights along with them. Warrick's head pounded at the sight of them, but his heart felt lighter. He managed to come to a stop, put the car into park. The lights were getting closer.

Warrick felt his eyes close, his head falling forward. It collided softly with the steering wheel. His ears took in the sound of gravel flying under screeching tires. People were shouting, yelling around at each other. All the doors of the truck were thrown open. A hand rested on his neck, a whisper in his ear, "You're going to be okay. Just hang in there."

"Nick?" It was mumbled out of the side of his mouth, but the hand squeezed at the skin of his neck. He barely heard Catherine tell him help was there and Nick was going to get as much help as he needed. Warrick simply let himself give in.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

No one spoke. It was quiet in the waiting room. Even the hospital staff seemed to know something was up and they didn't bother to make more noise than was needed. It was still too early to tell right now. Everyone could only sit there and wait.

Catherine patted her fingers against her lips as she ran through the events that had led her into that same room as before. At least this time she wasn't going to have to worry about Nick getting out that place without her seeing him doing it. The man would be lucky to make it out of there at all if what the doctors had been saying was anything to go by.

Day shift had picked up the warehouse on the commands of Ecklie. He hadn't said more than a few sentences to Grissom over the phone, telling him that graveyard was off for the next twenty hour time period. No one complained. It was the very least the man could offer than after everything. Catherine knew she would have taken it no matter what the lab supervisor had said.

But her body trembled a little as she thought about the condition they had found the guys in. It hadn't been long before their train of cars and ambulances had found the SUV. She was surprised at how little each was actually injured, but could tell things were really wrong.

Nick's skin had been freezing to the touch, yet had a damp feeling to it. Every inch of his skin was almost a perfect shade of gray. He hadn't responded to anything anyone did or said to him. And he was completely swarmed with guys in white uniforms.

So Catherine had taken her place at Warrick's side. She noticed right away the differently dilated pupils. Warrick had a pretty bad concussion from the looks of it and she almost screamed when his eyes closed and his head drooped to the side. But a paramedic was there and gently moved her away. Through the hustle she had only been able to make out small pieces of her two guys. Now they were behind some doors that they couldn't go through.

The four police detectives had split up, two coming with to the hospital, two going to the warehouse to figure out what had happened. Brass and Vartann stood off the side, whispering amongst themselves. Each was waiting for their phone to ring with the good or bad news. They all wanted to know the same thing. Was Tenner still there?

It was going to be a long process ahead of them. The families of the girls would have to be re-contacted with the new information. Catherine could only hope there would be someone for them to face in trial, someone to pay for what happened to their children. Having Shaun would help, but having Tenner would be even better.

A tall nurse ran from the rooms that Warrick and Nick were being held in. Her pace was quick, her eyes staying away from the people she knew would be watching her. She grabbed something from a different room before sprinting back. When the door opened and shut behind her, there was beeping. It was a good thing to hear. Beeping in a hospital meant life.

Greg shifted at her side. He had taken the chair on her left and hadn't moved since they had gotten there. His upper arm and thigh rested against her own, a sign he needed some physical contact, comfort. Catherine wasn't about to deny him that. She needed some of her own as well.

She lifted her eyes and sought out Grissom and Sara. They were sitting slightly off to the side, away from the main walkway. Each was sitting straight in the respected chairs. Both sat next to each other, but there was no contact. Each was wrapped together in something of their own. And Catherine was too tired to try to figure out what each of them was doing.

The trill of Brass' phone made her look away. She watched as the detective reached down for his suit jacket that he had placed and the chair to pull out his phone. He answered it in a low tone, his head turned downward a bit. Vartann shifted his attention directly on the other man.

A hand grabbed hers tightly. Catherine tightened her own hold on Greg's hand, the free on reaching over to rest on top of the knot. Her breath stopped for a moment as she watched Brass' shoulders drop. There was no way to read his expression. It was that same frown that could mean good news or bad. She bit her tongue as Brass hung up his phone and looked at Vartann.

"Well?" Greg asked, voice louder than he intended.

Sighing, Brass turned to look at them, "They found Tenner. He's dead. Shot in the head at the scene. No one else present though there are signs of several people being there. Several cloaks were found in various sizes. It seems to be the place of his hide out. Well, until those two can tell us more about what happened there."

"So, it's over? Really over?" Greg asked, looking directly at Catherine.

She looked at the hopeful, young eyes. It brought out her maternal side and all she wanted to say was yes, that it was going to be okay now. But the CSI in her wouldn't let those words come out. She was tongue tied as she tried to figure out what to say. Catherine was saved by Grissom.

"Yes, it's over. It's all over."

No one bothered to say more. It sounded so clinical, so impersonal. Each knew it was far from over. It was going to be like before. Only this time, there were two CSI's that would need the help, not just one. And Catherine could only hoped they did a better job with their dealing of this situation compared to the last one. This time, they all would need some sort of help to get over this.

But, for the here and now, it was over. The nightmare was laid to rest and the boogey man was taking his eternal nap. Physically, they were free from his tortures, his menace. But like all good bad things that go bump in the dark, screams would continue to cut through the darkness of night. Fears would be back. Fear would be all consuming.

TBC…


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary: **There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.

**Timeline: **Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six

**Spoilers: **Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Gum Drops, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: To Whom It May Concern**

**By: duffshel**

**Chapter 30:**

_**For everything there is a season,  
And a time for every matter under heaven:  
A time to be born, and a time to die;  
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;  
A time to kill, and a time to heal;  
A time to break down, and a time to build up;  
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;  
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;  
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;  
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;  
A time to seek, and a time to lose;  
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;  
A time to tear, and a time to sew;  
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;  
A time to love, and a time to hate,  
A time for war, and a time for peace.**_

_**-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8**_

Present…

Nick put his pen down softly on the paper. His breathing was the only sound that filled his ears. Warrick had fallen asleep on the edge of his bed, his long body almost falling to the floor from the odd position he had shifting into. But he was there and that's all the mattered.

It was over. He had gotten through something he was sure would have killed him. Nick had written down one of the worst things locked up inside of his head. There were plenty of others, but this was the only one he was forced to do. So, that's all he was going to do.

Along the way he had mentioned various other things, brought up plenty of other unresolved issues. But he wasn't going to look at those right now. Those were for other days, other nightmares. His plate was full enough with the dreams of the dark and the cold. Tenner had made the Texan come to fear both, though he was working on them. It wouldn't last forever.

He ran his hands through his hair, pulling several strands tight against their roots. Looking down at his right shoulder, he couldn't help, but to think of the phantom pain that remained there. Nick would forever know when it was going to rain or if the temperature was going to go through a really big shift. His pain would let him know without hesitation. It was a curse that he would get used to, like all the rest.

His eyes burned, his muscles ached. Nick wanted nothing more than to forget and sleep. This notebook wouldn't be analyzed for a few more days. He had time to let it all soak in. To possibly rip it all apart and pretend it had never happened. But he knew Warrick would never let him do such a thing.

Nick looked over at his friend, smiling slightly. They had things they were still trying to get past, work through. Lots of things had come out between them about what had been going on over the past months. Each had enough guilt to fill the status quo for the world. Nick still couldn't apologize enough for allowing Tenner to force him to shoot Warrick. And Warrick just couldn't ask for enough forgiveness for everything. It was a losing battle for each of them.

Their friendship was a little more forced than ever. It had its moments of uncomfortable silences, but it was never to the point where one wanted to walk away. Nick knew deeply that he needed his friendship with Warrick. If it weren't for the other man, he would be dead several times over. And it wasn't just for that either, physically he meant. Warrick helped him from dying emotionally as well. He knew his friend would be there for him always.

Everyone in the lab walked around them like they were made of some sort of glass. It was still going on, not quite to the same degrees, but it was still there. They were all making changes in how they lived, worked, and even played with each other. It was never going to be the same, but Nick really hoped something similar would be able to come out.

The time he had spent in the hospital was uncertain at most. He had been in and out of it for some long, drugged up and just exhausted. All he could really remember clearly was the last day when they let him leave. It wasn't as happy as it should have been. More of just a relief to be heading home.

But that was when he learned of his newest fear, that of the dark. For some reason it hadn't been a problem while he had been in the hospital for all that time. Now that he was home, the place that had twice before been violated, Nick wasn't able to keep himself strong when he was alone. Lights were his saviors now.

Rotating his neck with a sigh, Nick got up from his chair and quickly walked towards his door. He looked down at the small world the green frog lived in. She really didn't scare him like she should have. Nick would have thought seeing her would bring it all back, but it really didn't. Having the frog with him was more help than he could have anyone else understand.

Warrick didn't move as the Texan walked out the room and into the hallway. The lights were still on in the main rooms, bright as ever. It was something of a norm now, no matter how bright the sun was outside the windows.

He felt sore and tired. It was an annoying feeling, one he never was going to let himself get used to. Nick would fight it off better when he was allowed back to work he knew, but for now, it was just something to ignore.

Stopping in the area between his living room and his kitchen, Nick looked around, his eyes crinkled up a little. There had been some reason for him to come out here, but he couldn't seem to be able to recall what that was. His head cocked to the side a little as his brain tried to figure it all out. He didn't like to lose his thoughts anymore. It was too much like what happened with the cold.

Shaking it off, Nick turned and left the area. His hand brushed along the wall, feeling for the light switches. Nick held his breath as he lowered all the small latches. The rooms around him fell into darkness, leaving only the light coming from his bedroom down the hall. It was one of his tests. One of the things he was doing to himself to get over this.

Normally, his hands would sweat and he'd panic a little. But now, he just stood there, looking down the hallway. He could see light, but didn't feel the complete urge to run and bury himself in its arms of protection. Nick simply stood there.

He knew this was a good thing and should be excited about the fact. But it wasn't all the big of a deal. One learned not to be afraid of the dark when they were kids. Children learned quickly that their parents wouldn't come for every bad thing in the closet or under the bed. Darkness was ignored and eventually beaten.

Now, it was his turn to learn it again. Nick blinked his eyes slowly and took measured steps on the carpet leading to his bedroom. Relief and relaxation came over him as he moved along. His body craved his bed and he was more than willing to shove Warrick to the floor is he had to.

Some demons would be there forever, but Nick would hold his head high and face them. He wore his marks, his scars with some pride, some humiliation. All the tests that he had gone through were nothing, but large pot holes in the road. Nick knew he'd be alright in the end. He had to be.

Nick stepping out of the hallway into his bedroom. He doused the room in completely darkness. And for once, he slept without fear.

!#$&()+!#$&()+!#$&()+

_I still can't believe I did this. It is more of a surprise than I was ever expecting. I'm still not too certain that I'm not going to burn this before too long. _

_But, maybe not._

_Things are not too clear to me anymore. I'm beginning to wonder if I've ever had a firm grip on things in my life. I went from a large family to another one, where I really was treated as the youngest, the most vulnerable. It's hard to say anymore._

_All I know is I've held a gun to my head twice now in my life. And it's not something I really recommend for people to do. Guns always make me nervous, ever since that first one waving in my face. But it's always different when it's your own hand doing the holding._

_My wounds have healed the best they can. I have a small scar on the under side of my chin from where the barrel cut into my skin that had been too soft from all that damn water. My shoulder aches too much when it rains, annoying the hell out of me most of the time. But it never did affect my basketball game._

_Of course, have to say the emotional parts of my being are still on vacation. There is no clear cut way to say things to make other people happy. And I don't have any magic words for myself either. All I know is I've got to make it day by day. Otherwise, it might be too much._

_I've revisited many of my past experiences. I called up Miguel the other day and took the kid to a movie. It had been food. We shared a tub of popcorn then spent the ride home debating how real the action in the flick had really been. He was growing up well._

_And I've gotten back in touch with Cassie. Her voice is still raw, but she can speak without pain. It was good to hear that she is doing well in school and thriving under the care of her aunt and uncle. Someday I'm going to have to go visit her and see it all for myself._

_Seeing two of the kids that have made a difference for me in this job helped. Each giving me something to take with me, straight to the heart. It helps me face the idea of testifying against the people they managed to gather up._

_Shaun had been more than willing to give up names when it was announced it would reduce his sentence. He still got a shit load brought down on his head, but I still had to go and sit in that same court room as him. Warrick had been by my side, but at that time, it didn't help that much._

_I did well on the stands. That's what everyone said to me. All I remember was feeling way out of my league and confused beyond hell. I'm surprised I even was able to look that man in the face and see that sneer he gave me. _

_I know if he gets out, he's coming after me first._

_But I'll just lock that away with the rest of it all. Tenner was dead and he wasn't going to get me anymore through the real world. He could haunt me forever in my dreams for all I knew. And he was the other reason I wasn't back at work yet._

_There had been a case file made up for his death. I had to give my testimony and state that it was all in self defense. There had been a small hearing that several people had attended. Each felt it was best that I took some time off and allowed myself to get over everything. Paper work had been filed._

_I had killed a man after all._

_Time was the last thing I needed. It had allowed the demons in the dark to get bigger. Now I was still fighting them away. There was something seriously wrong with a grown man afraid of the dark. I guess I just am a perfect candidate for that sort of thing._

_But now I can finally put this pen down and never have to open this notebook again. Unless of course they make me which I'm sure will happen at one point in time. I've never really finished everything. There were those days of shaky recovering, those moments of close death. But I really don't care. It's not something I want to deal with anymore._

_I made it through. I'm still alive. That's all I know and all I need to know anymore. Smiles are harder now, but I'm not complaining. They still come and that's enough of an accomplishment for me._

_It's over. It's all over. Grissom had spoken those words to me in his office and I was going to stick to them. It didn't make it easier to believe, but it was what was expected. I'll get over everything mostly for them, but a little for myself._

_I desire that. I should get something out of all of this._

_My name is Nick Stokes. And I should be dead. But, I'm not._

**The End**

Author's Note: Well, that is it. It was a long one, wasn't it?! Wow, that wasn't planned at all. Just got away from me for awhile there and I didn't bother to fight it. But it was an interesting ride. Thanks to all those old and new that spoke up on this one. You make it that much easier for me to continue.

I think I might have at least one more big story in order for everyone before I take my leave from CSI fan fiction. Don't know when it'll be up and running, but there is a good start to it.

New Story!

**Title:** **_Mens rea, Actus reus_**

**Summary: **Case Number: 04-9921; Responding Officer: Sergeant Andrew Kehls; Lead Crime Scene Investigator(s): Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown; Victim: Tessa Bellamont; C.O.D.: Undetermined at Current Time, Under Full Investigation

That one is going to be a straight case file with the two guys taking the lead on it. It should be fast paced and a good read. And hopefully, shorter than this one was.

So, thanks again. Hope to see new and old back for the next round. It was fun!


End file.
